


To Build a Home

by bakabecca



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 156,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakabecca/pseuds/bakabecca
Summary: Rook clears out a cabin for herself to rest in as she builds up the Resistance in the Henbane, and we all know the Deputy can't be left alone too long without running into Joseph Seed himself. Rated for later chapters.





	1. Amalgam

McCoy Cabin is a small cabin off the banks of the Henbane River, hidden amongst trees and brush like most of Hope County. Sandwiched between Peaches Taxidermy to the east and the river itself on the right, Rook had claimed the abandoned place for herself. One day, after her adventures getting back Peaches for the ever so charming Miss Mable (so _what_ if Rook was Italian?), and blowing up some of those bliss filled shrines in the area with her M-79 (thank you, Sharky!) she found the place and decided it was just the right size to be a base for herself. She set her backpack down and took stock of its potential. With the exception of the bathroom, it was one large, glorified room. The kitchen had a fridge, stove and counters along with a dining table and chairs in the corner to eat on, a couch and a small television sat directly across from it, and there was a bed in the back by the back door. It seemed to have been ransacked, everything that could be turned over was and every surface was littered with debris, a quick investigation revealed that a one 'Derby McCoy' had once owned the land, but it was taken over by Eden's Gate to produce bliss. 

It took the entire rest of that day to place all of the upended furniture to their correct places, clean the tables and floor, create a big pile of all the trash behind the cabin itself, and set it ablaze by rolling the industrial sized red container of gasoline from out front and shooting it. In retrospect she was probably hanging with Sharky too much, his 'set everything on fire' attitude was contagious and she could have very well burnt the cabin down. There were still large Eden's Gate flags and banners hung all over the place, but she told herself she would save that chore for another day. Besides, if peggies thought this place was still occupied by their own they might overlook it. The area itself was in the northern region of the Henbane and after a week or so of keeping her head down, waiting out Faith's latest bout of rage over the destroyed shrines, she realized that even in the countryside it was possible to find a place where barely a soul bothered to go. With the population of Hope County not being much to brag about, as a lot of people had left as the cult's influence grew, Rook felt lucky she had found a quiet place to not be disturbed. 

Deputy Rook had been in Hope County, Montana for around four months now. It was more than long enough to learn about Eden's Gate and the conditions the locals had been living under for who knows how long. From the moment she liberated Dutch's island she had kept herself busy helping fight the cult. She destroyed every silo in the Valley, met the locals and got Nick Rye's plane back right from under John's nose and even got some fishing done in the meantime. She liberated all of the outposts there for the Resistance and for her efforts bore a tattoo of the word 'WRATH' under her left collarbone, courtesy of the youngest Seed brother. She felt close to another confrontation, but the more she thought about it the more a part of her recoiled from the thought. She could take down droves of peggies, free tons of civilians from kidnappings and forced baptisms, but when it came down to actually ending John's life she halted. It didn't seem like a simple impulse anymore. 

When she had taken Seed Ranch he had been livid, but after she listened to Joseph's voicemail to him her resolve faltered. He spoke of pain, of John learning to let more love into his heart instead of hurt. How in hurting others he was spreading his hurt like a virus. It was probably the first time she had been tempted to pick up the Word of the Father and read it. Slipping one of the many copies John had laying around into her bag, Rook had said a quick goodbye to her partner Grace as the Resistance filed in and started to clean the place out. That night she had taken the book out and ran her thumbs over the soft white leather and the black Eden's Gate cross before opening it for the first time and reading it. 

That turned out to be a mistake. It had made the Seed brothers seem more human than she was comfortable with. To have learned about their struggles and what they had done to reach this point in their lives. To read about the values and concerns that she herself worried about also, it was dangerously close to relating to them. Dangerously close to seeing them as individuals and not just an enemy to take out. Periodically she had to remind herself of the horrible things they do, their methods were barbaric and no amount of relating to their message could change that. When she was finished she left the book under the mattress in her room at the Spread Eagle. In a rare show of cowardice, she fled a few days after, leaving a mostly Resistance run Valley behind and starting her work on the Henbane rather than push John into a (possibly) final confrontation. Maybe if she distanced herself from the Seeds she could go back to thinking of them as solely evil and nothing more. 

She had been in the Henbane for about a month now, learning that while Faith was not as volatile as John, she was just as dangerous. And honestly, she had been getting residual headaches from the bliss her body was not used to breathing in. So after the latest round of destroying cult property and transports it was another reason she found herself laying low in this tiny cabin. 

One night, when Rook was done rocking in the chair on the front lawn (if you could call it that, it was actually more dirt than anything), she turned off the radio she had been listening to and stomped out the campfire she had made earlier with her boot. Tomorrow she would get back to the grind, she had laid low enough and it was time to get back out there and liberate some outposts. Heading inside, Rook stripped off her boots, her belt, unclipped her radio, and finally her jeans, folding them and leaving them on the chair next to the dining table. Clad in an overly large Camp Cougars t-shirt, her underwear and socks, she took one last quick glance over the map of Hope County she had spread out on the table. It was covered in tacks she had used to mark her next targets for tomorrow.

If she stuck to this side of the river, she could fill in the gaps in her map and finish laying out the northern region. Maybe she would stop and get Peaches from Mable, fast. Lest she stay too long and have to listen to her go off on a tirad about how she doesn't need Italians around stealing her jewelry. Extinguishing the lanterns she had placed around to keep the place lit - she really hated this cabins lack of electricity - she slipped in between the sheets of her bed and sighed, relaxing into the mattress. There didn't seem to be any wiring around - just a small generator outside to run the refrigerator and a gas line for the stove, so thank goodness it was summer and there was no worry about cold weather. 

\------

Rook wasn't sure how much time had passed when the creaking of the porch made her eyes flutter open. She stilled for a moment, waiting for any other noise, before relaxing and closing her eyes to fall back into slumber. 

Moments later the creaking resumed and Rook begrudgingly sat up. Those were definitely footsteps coming closer. She scrambled and took her Beretta from beneath her pillow and aimed it at the door across the room from her. _'I swear to God if it's Sharky I am gonna smack him one.'_ The door handle jostled lightly and she quietly threw the sheets back and crept towards the door. Hearing an audible sigh as the person behind the door realized it was locked, Rook reached her hand out towards the doorknob - intent on unlocking it and wrenching it open to catch whoever was on the other side off guard. She heard the jangling of keys, which meant it was most likely one of the peggies that had stayed here before she 'commandeered' the place. 

Taking a steadying breath she flipped the doors lock and swung it inwardly open, immediately grabbing the person by their shirt and pulling them inside, throwing them to the ground and training her pistol on them. But when she allowed herself to actually focus on the person - man - in front of her she froze. The moonlight was enough for her to see him clearly. His aviators had fallen off, his hair was slightly mussed in it's bun, and for once he was wearing a shirt, but holy shit. 

It was Joseph Seed. 

"Deputy?" He inquired, voice calm even in this situation as he raised his upper half off the ground to start to stand.

"Joseph?" She exclaimed, mouth gaping open. She lowered her gun in her surprise before quickly aiming it up again. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" 

His brow furrowed for a moment before he straightened his collar, grabbed his aviators and stood up, her pistol following his every movement.

"Language." 

"I said, what the _hell_ are you doing here?" 

His lips pursed as he took a moment to look her up and down, taking out a cloth and cleaning smudges off the lenses, never once looking away. Like this was a normal everyday situation to him. Realizing she did not have any pants on, she felt a blush creep it's way to her face as she fought to keep her glare. His gaze was not lustful or heated, just a quick evaluation of her state of dress. To his credit his eyes never strayed down again. 

"I could ask you the same question. I believed this cabin to belong to my flock." 

Rook scoffed. Those damned Eden's Gate banners she had left up. Though, if she thought about it for a second, he probably would have pranced in regardless of whether they were up or not. 

"I'm not in the mood for this. Turn around, walk out, and don't come back." 

Joseph made no move to heed her directions, instead looking around the space and seeming to take note of it's cleanliness, her backpack and shoes strewn near the door. 

"Where are the members who resided here?"

"Guess." 

Joseph sighed, one hand resting on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and returned his glasses to the breast pocket of his jacket. 

"You have been staying here, then. I had not heard any word on your destruction for some time." 

Of course the only person who would face down the barrel of her gun and try to strike up casual conversation would be the Father himself. She kept her sights trained on him as he reached out and lit a nearby lantern with the matches she had left out, her muscles tense as she watched for any sudden movements toward her.

"I said leave." 

The room was decently illuminated now, revealing more than the moonlight through the windows had. His gaze strayed to the table her map was placed on. She moved over towards it and blocked his view of the table with her body. 

"I was going to stay for the night. But it seems God has others plans for us." 

She was tired, her hair was messy and she wished very much that she had the ability to put on pants with her mind. Rook sighed and motioned to the door with her gun. Her heart was beating wildly but she tried to keep an annoyed look to hide her anxiety at the whole situation.

"I'm tired and I spent all day cleaning up this pigsty that your 'flock' made here. So it's time to go and pretend you never saw me." 

"Are you not afraid I will leave and come back with my faithful to reclaim this place?" His hands were clasped leisurely in front of him, his head cocked to the side fractionally as he awaited her reply. Shit. She didn't think about that. All that hard work into making this place livable and she just had to be found by Joseph. It was just her rotten luck. She stood for a few moments, considering his words and her options. He probably would leave, and she might have to pack up and find a new place. 

"I don't know. Is that your plan?" She countered. 

"I will leave this place in peace if you answer me one question."

Easy. "Fine. What?" She tapped her foot impatiently. He stared at her for a long moment, his patience infinite compared to hers. 

"Why did you leave the Valley?" 

Rook stiffened. There was no way he could read her so easily. No way he could read her mind and know that she was hesitating on landing the final blow. He was full of it. For all he knew she was bored of his brothers antics and moved on. Or maybe she had been called to the Henbane for an emergency. But the way he was looking at her, blue eyes looking for the world like they already knew her answer, she couldn't stomach the idea of confirming any truths to him.

So she shrugged, "I got bored. John was making things too easy." 

"God opposes the proud but gives favor to the humble." 

"I don't need a lecture. You have your answer, now go." 

"You are not truthful. But the lie is telling. I accept it." 

Joseph stepped forward towards her as she bristled and tightened her grip on her Beretta. He gave no sign of being dissuaded, though, and kept going until he stopped two feet from her - her barrel beginning to press into his white shirt.

"I will leave you be, I am a man of my word. My men will not be returning here." 

She raised a brow and tried to analyze his expression. He looked so normal without his glasses.

"Just like that?" 

"Just like that." 

She lowered her gun slightly, unwilling to step away from the table and let him see her targets for tomorrow. If he tried anything while her gun was lowered she had no issue showing the Father how far up she could kick his nuts. Her eyes must have given her weariness away, because when she focused back on his face he had a gentle, curious expression. His hand reached up towards her face and she flinched, expecting the worst. He halted for a moment at her reaction before continuing up to smooth a few stray chestnut locks back behind her ear. At this proximity, with the only sounds their breathing and the crickets outside, the gesture felt strangely intimate. It was also the first time they had contact since leading him out of his compound and into the helicopter. She held his gaze and she could not bring forth anything meaningful to say. His eyes were a baby blue, he smelled like cedar and bergamot, and… he was staring at her lips. Her heart was beating so fiercely she was surprised he would not hear it pounding against her ribs. Flushing once more she ceased her examination, this was Joseph Seed she couldn't afford to be gawking at him. She pressed the barrel of her gun against his chest and opened her mouth to speak - but he was moving away in an instant, turning from her and heading to the still open door. 

Joseph paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. 

"Enjoy your peace. Everyone needs a haven to rest." 

With that he left, closing the door behind him. She waited cautiously with her gun still poised, but his footsteps faded and there was nothing but silence. She went to the door and peered out the drapeless window, there was no sign of him. Rook didn't remember even hearing a car pull up, which made her think about how on Earth he had even gotten there. She locked the door once more and decided to keep the lantern on for the night, just in case she needed the light. She dragged a chair over to the door for good measure and leaned it under the knob, in case anyone with keys tried to come in. Joseph had said no one would, but it never hurt to be careful.

Wait, why was she trusting him? It was way too easy for her to take him at his word. There was just something about the Father that told her his word actually meant something to him, he was many things but he hadn't ever lied about anything. Maybe it was part of that charisma that had led to the growth of Eden's Gate. Maybe she was an idiot and there would be a caravan of peggies outside her door in the morning. She slipped on her jeans and decided to sleep in them in case there was a need for a getaway. Falling back onto the bed she put her gun under her pillow again and stared at the ceiling, replaying the last few minutes in her head. 

She mentally slapped herself, she was found by _Joseph Seed_ in her _underwear_ , he had _stared_ at her and _touched_ her hair. It was the first time she had seen him since this all started, her hand reached up and absentmindedly played with the strands he had tucked behind her ear. Why did her heart flutter? He was a madman bent on converting all of Hope County. His eyes were so blue, though. And he had said she could stay here and not be bothered. 

The night continued uneventfully and just as she was getting comfortable again, her drooping eyes shot open and she punched the mattress as her stupidity hit her. 

She hadn't asked for his damn keys.


	2. Honor

True to his word the next morning there was not a soul to be found when Rook woke up. For a long time she sat up in her bed listening for the sounds of convoys or multiple footsteps, but nothing. Just birds chirping, sunshine and a light breeze. Joseph, it seemed, hadn't lied. It wasn't surprising, but if she was going to be honest with herself she felt a little let down - if he had reneged on their agreement she would have had more of a reason to hate him. Eventually she got up and dressed, taking off the tacks on her map and folding it back into her pack. She opted to leave her Beretta hidden under her pillow and holstered her silenced 1911 on her hip before she slung her AR-C over her shoulder. Double checking that she had some grenades and throwing knives in her bag, she gave the small refuge a once over before heading out east along the river. 

It was relatively easy to dodge patrols when she wasn't scouting along the main roads. She skirted around Raptor's Peak (no need to go up there again ever, prepper stash or no) and hiked along the mountainous terrain across from Rock Bass Lake. There was a temptation to cross the road and set up camp by the river, content to have a drink and fish the day away, but she had spent a week resting in her cabin already. People were struggling everyday against Eden's Gate and she couldn't afford to take a break like that again. She was just so tired, a weight to her step that wasn't solely physical. When she was going through the police academy and applying to precincts she never thought she would end up in a situation like this. When Rook heard they were looking for another officer in Hope County she had looked up and contacted Sheriff Whitehorse, making sure she had sent in her application like all the others. He had told her it was a quiet place with not much going on, she remembered bitterly, it still seemed reckless and selfish to bring someone into this without telling them the whole situation. Ignoring the sting the thought caused she whacked a few branches out of the way and continued her trek of the northern region of the Henbane. 

She had figured it would be a good way to start her cop days and learn the ropes of being a law enforcer. 

She never would have guessed what awaited her. 

There was a shrine north of the Whistling Beaver Brewery that she intended to blow to pieces before continuing south to the outpost. It was a long walk from her cabin, but everytime she asked to commandeer a car the locals got sassy with her, and every time she tried to drive a peggie truck they always ended up spotting her. At least her legs had been toned from her years of track. With years of running on her side she had easily grown competent in traversing the Big Sky Country, learning a few things about hiking as well. Her destination was far, which afforded her a few quiet hours with only her thoughts for company, so she mentally retraced the beginning of her time here. She had moved to Hope from Missoula, it was only a few hours away so she wouldn't be terribly far from her old friends or her family. A quiet job in a quiet place, surrounded by beauty. When she got to the county she immediately went to the police station and introduced herself, touring the offices and getting acquainted with everyone. 

She was assigned a locker and got her first uniform, which wasn't the most comfortable material, but it might as well have been silk in her hands because of what it represented. Her first official uniform. Rook was giddy and breathless, excited to start her new life here. She had gushed to that traitor Nancy, who ran both the front desk and the dispatch, and they shared a talk about the different sights she had to see. When she left the station she saw far in the distance what she now knew to be the statue of Joseph - but she couldn't quite make out what it had been at the time, maybe a monument to a historical figure or such. And she was too preoccupied and naive to ask. If she had to make an excuse, the cult had been relatively tame then compared to after the Reaping started. From what she had gathered they were always fanatical in their beliefs and had steadily rising numbers, with only rumors of kidnappings and threats from some of the members towards the local community. But it wasn't like there were hanging bodies, armed convoys and Eden's Gate graffiti to warn her away like there was now. 

The hours passed as she lost herself in her thoughts, picking some Prairie Fire as she went and keeping well hidden. She had come close to some on foot patrols but was able to skirt them well enough. The sun was almost setting when she finally crossed road and the river to reach the shrine waiting on the other side. She climbed up the low side of the highland and crept a short distance to the shrine. They were ugly things, looking like mini chapels oozing bliss, with convenient, bright red gasoline tanks kept in the center. She scouted the area with her binoculars from behind a large outcropping of rocks, identifying one of the cult's VIPs and a regular follower kneeling in prayer before the construction. Good, no sign of hostages. Putting her binoculars away she fished out a grenade from her bag and started to aim near the front of the shrine, close to the red tank. 

Before she could pull the pin, she heard a sob from follower next to the VIP. Were they crying? If they were, why? She lowered her hand and observed them, leaning forward to try and listen. It appeared to be a woman, she had a rifle strapped to her back but Rook could still see her shoulders trembling as she cried. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her as she rocked slightly. 

"Please...please…" 

Rook started, they couldn't be a hostage. Hostages didn't get weapons. She leaned in closer, needing to figure this out before she lobbed a grenade at them carelessly. 

"Please Lord, please Father… Help my little girl get better. Help her, please…" 

Rooks face fell and she scooted back to her original place behind the rock, sliding to the ground with the sun warmed stone against her back. These were peggies, this bliss had to be eliminated, and this shrine destroyed. But she couldn't throw her grenade while they were there. That peggie was someone's mother, she had a kid and they were sick and this human being came to this shrine to pray peacefully. Though she had no illusion they wouldn't stand up and shoot Rook without a thought, Rook herself had been willing to blow them up without a thought, too. So when did it all stop? Her head tilted back and hit the stone behind her as she looked up at the yellowing sky. Deliberating for a minute as the woman's crying subsided, she finally stood back up a few minutes later. The shrine had to go, but she wouldn't be the asshole to kill people while they prayed. 

"Hey guys!" She called out, stepping out from behind the rock with a sheepish smile. 

The two cultists shot up and spun towards her, both reaching back for their guns as they took in her normal non-cult attire and recognized her face. She never thought she would be seeing a wanted posted with her face on it, but the cult had wasted no time putting them up across the entire county. It was kind of flattering, really. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Rook warned, raising her left hand up, showcasing the grenade she had faltered to throw minutes ago. It stopped their reach for their weapons and froze them in place. Good. 

"What do you want, sinner?" The VIP sneered. Rook laughed. 

"I need you to vacate the premises. Wouldn't want you too close when this whole thing goes ka-blooey." 

They stared at her for a moment in disbelief, before starting to step away from the shrine, not willing to call her bluff. 

"We will tell Faith what you have done! You are destroying a holy place!" Snapped the one with dried tears visible on her cheeks. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna burn forever for this. Keep your hands away from those weapons and go let them know what happened." 

The confusion in their eyes was understandable. She was supposed to be one of the cult's top enemies, Deputy Rook, and here she was being all merciful and not killing them. She had always considered herself a conscientious person - but under the extraordinary circumstances in which she found herself she had not been left with much time to smell the roses and contemplate the morality of killing the peggies so hell bent on killing her. But she had had her rest and silence this last week, and her pesky conscious was seeping into her thoughts again. 

"Go on, get." She prodded, giving them the final reassurance they seemed to need that she wasn't going to shoot them when they turned. They ran off and disappeared out of sight, leaving Rook alone once more. Letting them go would prove to be a pain, they would alert the nearest followers they found and Faith would have the area on alert. She might have to scrap her plans to camp out and wait till morning to liberate Whistling Beaver Brewery, if they were just going to be on alert when they woke up it would be best to go about it when the day shifts went to sleep and the night watch woke up to take their place. If she was lucky they would be sleepy and she would have the element of surprise. 

Taking one last look around, Rook pulled the pin from her grenade and threw it towards the shrine. It arced perfectly and landed right in front of it, nearest to the red gasoline container within. Ducking back behind the rocks she covered her ears with her hands just in time for the explosion to rumble through the air - pieces of wood and flaming debris scattering the surrounding area, followed by waves of black smoke as it all burned. Casting a satisfied glance at the remains, Rook was happy to check another shrine off her list she quickly made her way back down the highlands. Keeping her head down in case the peggies she let go free had found backup quicker than anticipated, she crossed the river and the road beyond once more. The outpost was on this side of the river and now she only need go south. 

She stopped for a bathroom break, made sure to take a swig from her water canteen, and munched on a protein bar as she made her way to her next target. Not stopping again until the sun had fully set, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and settled down among the trees from a good vantage point close to the outpost. Taking a few precious moments to check over her inventory and make sure her weapons were in order, she was startled out of her skin when her radio crackled to life at her hip. 

"This is Dr. Charles Lindsey at the Hope County Jail. Has anyone heard from the Deputy?" 

The man's voice crackled and went silent, once her rapidly beating heart slowed down she cursed quietly. She had wanted to lay low for awhile, so she told Whitehorse she might be scarce, keeping her radio off a majority of the time except to listen to the random chatter across the region. Guess now was a good a time as any to start up communications again. Rook took her radio from her side and held down the button to respond. 

"Deputy Rook here. Sorry for the radio silence, I was laying low. What do you need?" 

She was always needed for something, she was capable and got results. And she was willing to help, hell that's why she became a cop. But she missed the close friends she had left in Holland Valley, like Kim Rye and Mary May. They would have asked after how she was doing, first, at the very least. Taking her thumb off the radio she used her free hand to start putting her inventoried equipment back in the bag. She was good on ammo and her first aid kit was stocked. After this she would turn her radio off and start scoping out the brewery's defenses.

"Welcome back, Deputy! I wanted to let you know that I finished tweaking that new bait recipe. So anytime you could swing by and pick it up would be great, I can't wait to see if it works." 

Rook huffed and tightened the silencer on her barrel before sliding it back into its holster. The last time he had her try out bait to lure Faith's angels, all it had done was attract a damn herd of skunks. At the time, from the roof of a nearby shed, she had to admit it was hilarious to watch the angels and skunks start to fight each other. Surprisingly, the skunks won. So maybe it wasn't a complete wash? 

"Noted. I'm not close right now, I'll come by when I am. Rook, out." She waited a beat for a responding 'Understood Deputy, see you soon' and went to clip her radio back in its place, when-

"Deputy." 

Rook froze. The calm voice she had heard just the night before called out from the radio in her hand. She stared at it for a long moment, too stunned to raise the radio up and reply. She knew she couldn't have gotten rid of him that easily. He wanted something else. How did he know to listen in on this frequency? Well of course he knew, if Nancy was any lesson then she was sure that there were peggies in every region feeding the cult information. So it would stand to reason that they knew the Resistances frequencies for John, Faith and Jacob's respective regions- 

"Deputy, are you there?" His voice cut through her racing thoughts and prompted her to raise her radio once more.

"Joseph. What is this? What do you want?"

"I simply heard your voice and wanted to speak. Is this a bad time?" 

Rook scoffed. Then paused. What were the odds it was a coincidence that he was tuning into this frequency at the exact moment she used her radio for the first time in a week? If not, how long had he been tuned in, waiting to hear word from her? 

"Actually I was in the middle of an extreme frisbee tournament. Could it wait?" She drawled, standing up and shouldering her bag and assault rifle. He didn't reply for a beat, she liked to think that if he had a sense of humor at all buried deep inside he might be cracking a smile. Or thinking about smiling. 

His voice crackled through the radio moments later. "That account does not match the report I received an hour ago. My flock said you were destroying Faith's shrines." 

"Is that why you called? Mad I blew up your property?" He couldn't see her, but that didn't stop her from tucking her free arm under the one holding up her radio and jutting her hip out indignantly. 

"No, it is not." 

"Then why would the Father himself call me up for a _talk_?" 

"I wanted to ask how you were." 

Taken aback, Rook furrowed her brows in disbelief. He could at least come up with a better excuse. "Bullshit."

"Language." 

"Tell me what you actually want." 

"I have." 

"Well, I don't believe you."

She could feel, rather than hear, his tired sigh on the other line before he responded. "We had not heard about you for some time. It was a surprise when our paths crossed again. And something...seemed different." 

Rook cringed and held the radio away, like that would somehow make the fact that he announced on a commonly used frequency that they had been in _contact_. She didn't need anyone getting the wrong idea.

"You don't know me well enough to make that claim, and this is a public frequency. If you wanted a heart to heart this isn't the best place." 

"How may I reach you, then?"

"You may _not_ reach me, period." 

"Deput-" 

"Oh man it's the final round they are getting ready to throw the frisbee gotta go--" She switched off her radio and clipped it. Stomping at the ground and shaking her shoulders out a bit to release the tension the impromptu Joseph talk had caused her, she headed towards the outpost to finish up her business here.

\----- 

Midnight found the Deputy exhausted, bidding the Resistance members she had called in to hold the Brewery goodbye. At some point while liberating the place she had turned too suddenly, causing her ankle to smart a bit - but besides a single bullet graze on her arm and some bruises from a peggie, who got in more punches than they usually did, she was fine. The adrenaline from the last few hours still buzzed lightly through her as she borrowed one of the speedboats in the river from the Resistance. There was no way she was walking on her stinging ankle all the way back to her cabin, if she asked for a ride it would involve telling people where her little haven was. Besides, under the cover of darkness she could easily avoid peggie boat patrols. In record time she had stashed the boat by the riverside and slowly trekked across the road and towards her cabin, keeping her weight off her right ankle.

_'I'm not even going to bother to shower. I just need to lay down.'_

Fishing out the cabin key she unlocked the door, stepped inside, and re-locked it behind her. The next few minutes were a blur as she kicked off her boots and shrugged her pack off her shoulders, letting them fall to the floor in the middle of the room. Rook trudged to her bed and flopped unceremoniously down, uncaring as sleep took her that she still had some dirt and blood on her clothes, needing to recuperate. As she drifted off she wondered, briefly, how strange it was that humans had to shut down every night. Leave themselves for a few hours completely vulnerable in order to recharge like a battery. 

_She dreamed of retaking various outposts, of running into cult roadblocks on the road. There was a beautiful Eden just beyond each obstacle, and with every shot she fired she felt a bullet pierce her body in return. With every person she killed the less she could think, the more she could only obsess about the salvation just out of reach. One shot, two, she saw her bullets tear through the person in front of her - simultaneously feeling the pain herself. Rook became weaker with every person she downed, until everyone was gone and she was struggling to walk towards that beautiful Eden in front of her. There was no one left to keep her from reaching it - but it felt like she was trying to wade through a swamp. Glancing down she shrieked, seeing thick red blood rising up to her knees, pulling at her, making her journey harder. She fought and thrashed against it, trying to claw forward to her salvation. But it kept getting further away, the blood kept rising, filling her nose with the scent of copper and salt, drenching her clothes and seeping into her skin._

_As it threatened to overtake her she looked up and saw Joseph. He was standing in front of her, dressed just like the night she had apprehended him. Unaffected by the red tides around them._

_'Please!' She sputtered, his gaze softened and raised his hands towards her, like he had when she was told to cuff him._

_'I wanted to ask how you were.' His voice echoed in her ears, the same words he had spoken to her hours ago. She hadn't wanted to listen, then._

_'Please help me!' She cried as the blood reached her chin, feebly trying to reach out an arm to him._

_He made no move to help her, the rosary wrapped around his left hand dangling, catching her eye as he put his hands together in prayer. Rook was swept under, cutting off her view of him, she tried to stay afloat but everything was getting darker, she could find no purchase to cling to. She couldn't see Joseph anymore, but his muffled voice reached her still._

_'Why did you leave the Valley?'_

Rook jolted up, practically falling out of bed as her own screams took her from her nightmare. Her body shook and she gasped for breath, a breeze wafting through screen of the window made her shiver as it cooled the sweat coating her skin. When she was able to collect her thoughts and ground herself a wave of nausea washed over her, residual fear filling her head as she ran into the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. She retched for a few minutes before flushing and sitting on the ground in front of it. She tried to fill her mind with happy thoughts, so she conjured up the most comforting things she could think of. Anything to fill her head but her nightmare. Cute rabbits, tulips, playing video games with her dad, baking cookies with her mom. The good thoughts clashed against the bad. 

For the first time in a long time, Rook buried her head in her hands and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your feedback and support! All comments are treasured! I hope you enjoy.


	3. Concord

The next day was quiet in comparison to the turmoil she had felt the day before. Rook woke up, cleaned the mess she had made in the bathroom and stepped into the shower. For awhile she let the warm water wash over her - watching detachedly as dirt and blood swirled the drain and disappeared. She scrubbed every inch of herself twice over and washed her long hair until she was certain no sweat or blood remained. When she was done she stepped out and dried off quickly, throwing her dirty clothes into the corner until a time she could take them down to the river to wash - fetching a fresh set of clothes from where she'd folded them onto a rack in the small bathroom. Her mind felt euphorically blank as she dressed, having exhausted herself of all emotion that morning after her crying. She left her hair hanging wet down her back and stepped back out into the main room. 

Rook put on her boots and picked up her pack from the floor, placing it with her weapons onto the couch. Bringing her radio over to the dining table she tuned the frequency to the one most listened to at 8 Bit Bar. It was nice having a haven to herself but maybe too much time alone with her thoughts wasn't a good thing. Once more unfolding her map onto the table, she tested the channel to see if anyone responded. 

"8 Bit? This is Deputy Rook, come in." 

She was about to try once more when Grace's voice reached her. 

"Hey Dep, missed your ass. Where you been?" Rook nearly laughed in relief at the sound of her friends voice. She had not kept in touch too often after leaving Holland Valley. 

"Making things tough for Faith." 

"Hell yeah. I hear that bliss shit really fucks with you, watch yourself." 

"Of course. How was the Valley after I left?" 

"Things are good there, even after you moved on. The Resistance is keeping the ground you gained us." There was a muffled voice heard in the background and Grace went quiet for a moment before continuing, "Hey hold on a sec, Sharky want--" 

Her voice cut off abruptly. 

"Hey Po Po! About time you called! It's boring here without my burnin' buddy!" Rook smiled, his enthusiasm was contagious. There was no one she laughed with and had fun with more than Sharky Boshaw, he was a breath of fresh air after she came to the Henbane to escape her moral dilemmas. The first time she had met Sharky had been when she found him in a trailer park north of the jail. The whole place was wired up with giant speakers blasting disco music. They had spent the afternoon attracting the angels and subsequently beating the crap out of them to lower their numbers. And because it was really fun.

"I miss you too, Sharky. How are the angels? I've been wrecking those shrines where I can." 

"Oh y'know, they jus' keep comin' man, they are more annoying than my ex." 

She allowed herself a chuckle, "I will stop by the trailer park soon. In the meantime could you guys send Boomer to Peaches Taxidermy?" 

"Oh I see how it is," he said in mock offense, "I thought we was friends, but I guess dogs are man's _best_ friend." A pause, then his tone was back to normal, "Hey, we're best friends right? I've told you, uhh...things. I mean we've opened up to each other like real bros." 

Her heart ached at his sincerity. She didn't deserve such awesome friends. "Of course we are Sharky, best buds." 

"Wooooo-wee! Ain't that nice to hear. Ya hear that Grace? Dep's my best friend!" Rook laughed again, her first real laugh in awhile. 

"Thanks Sharky. I'll talk to you guys later." 

"Bye Po Po!" 

She set down her radio and shook her head, man she missed those guys. It would take a bit for Boomer to reach Peaches', so she would go fetch him later that day. Hopefully having him around to keep her company would brighten her mood a little. Stretching her arms over her head she cracked her knuckles and returned her attention to the map she had laid out. Not having a specific plan for the day she opted to go over her next steps as her hair dried. Quickly getting a glass of water, she sat down at the table again, staring at the x's and o's she had penciled next to different locations names - so she knew which ones were left and which ones she had taken care of already. It was probably best if she didn't use the tacks anymore, as useful as they were for her to visualize her routes, they poked a lot of holes in the map and sooner or later she would have to find a new one. Rook tapped her pencil against her thigh and leaned back, using her other hand to lift her glass to her lips and down half the glass. 

Before she could take the glass from her lips, however, she heard the lock click and the door open up, she jumped and the pencil fell from her hand. Nearly choking on her water, she hurriedly put the glass down and jolted up - reaching for the holster at her side that wasn't there. Cursing herself a thousand times for not staying prepared, even here, she locked her eyes with Joseph as he shut the door behind him. He was in what she assumed to be his sermon attire, grey pants and white shirt buttoned all the way to his neck, with an open grey jacket. This time he was wearing his aviators.

"Wha-why are you here?" She demanded, aware that her weapons were on the couch with her pack. At least this time she was wearing pants.

Nonplussed, he stepped further into the cabin. "Our discussion was cut short last night. I came for that 'heart to heart', as you so called it." 

Rook's shoulders slumped, she cautiously moved past him and checked out the windows for any sign his followers had come with him, but there was nothing she could see. Just a lone white truck in the drive that had no one in the front seats. She turned with a sigh and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. 

"I thought I said not to reach out to me." 

"You sounded as if something was plaguing you." 

"Don't do that." His head cocked to the side, question clear on his face. She rolled her eyes and looked off towards the kitchen. Away from that intense gaze. "Act like you know what is normal for me and what isn't." 

"But I do know. I have heard you almost every day since you came to us." Now it was Rook's turn to look confused, "On the frequency for Falls End...the Rye's channel, even on the police's emergency channel. I have always heard you." 

Rook couldn't help but stare back now, disbelief overwhelming the nervousness his attention stirred. He hardly blinked - his blue eyes searching her green ones for some kind of answer. Once again he was the one to step closer, but she was not afraid of him here. A haven, he had called this place. He hadn't attacked it, and if he wanted to kill her he could have tried by now. Besides, the way this conversation was going he must have actually wanted a heart to heart. So she held her ground as he came to a stop mere feet away. 

"So I know when you are happy, fighting my faithful, destroying what we've built, or just going silent for the night." The cadence of his voice lulled her in as their eyes held. The amount of time and effort one would need to put in to listening to those channels...since she had first arrived? Rook probably should have thought it more normal since Eden's Gate had to check in on what their enemies were doing - but for some reason she knew it wasn't that. He hadn't needed to personally keep tabs on her himself.

"Until a month ago." He continued, she could tell he was slowly working towards the reason for his presence as of late. But he was patient as molasses, like he expected her to run away if he spoke too much. "You went quiet." 

He waited for a reaction or response, and when she gave him none he continued. 

"John was worried. He did not want Eden's Gate to be shut to him, but you were forcing his hand. So close to destroying all of his work, the lamb overtaking the lion...but then you left." 

Rook closed her eyes, her nails digging into her arms painfully. He was too close to the truth for comfort. After a few quiet moments she felt him lift her chin up towards him. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and opened her eyes again. He was even closer than before, his face inches from hers as he studied her seriously. Her heartbeat sped up as she tried to focus anywhere but his lips, his eyes. She tried hard not to take this proximity seriously, Joseph seemed the kind of man to ignore the idea of personal space, but she was not used to being this close to a man without there being _interest_. 

And without fail every time she had come face to face with this man they always ended up close. It was par for the course now, so if he had come to see her and not ended up in her personal space...well, a traitorous part of herself would have been disappointed. 

"You left John alone. You directed your wrath in a new direction." He continued on, unaware of her inner thoughts and snapping her out of them. He spoke so softly now that if she hadn't been so close to him she would have had a hard to hearing him. She had never heard him angry, always calm and measured. She could listen to him speak all day, she realized, and never get tired of his voice. No wonder he had so many faithful, if his words could stir even her emotions and he wasn't even preaching.

"You got me. I can't do it. I don't want to." 

She surprised herself with her honesty, quickly hardening her eyes at him. Giving him an inch, a tiny begrudging admission, before putting her walls back up. His eyes had softened at her, and when he nodded knowingly, _encouragingly_ , she felt anger pool in her gut. She didn't want his pity, and this wasn't a confession booth, she didn't want to be speaking about this.

"Tell me why you are here." She ground out. 

He continued staring until his eyes seemed to lose their focus and look past her own. A minute passed, quiet, birds chirping outside the cabin as the day continued on around them. Rook kept looking at him even as the fingers lifting her chin fell away, unwilling to interrupt the moment. She took this time to look over the slight wrinkles on his forehead and the crows feet in the outer corner of his eyes, his neatly trimmed beard and slight curvature of his nose. Eventually he inhaled deeply and took one, two steps away, seeming to come back to himself. It wasn't until later, when she was playing the moment over in her mind, that she realized he hadn't quite known the answer himself. 

"33." 

She blinked. "What?"

"Frequency 33. You did not wish to speak on a public channel. If you ever need to speak, that is an unused frequency."

Had he come by just for that? To goad her again about John and give her a private frequency they could use? He had moved away, and the loss of his body heat made the cool morning air feel colder. Lowering her arms down to her sides she shook her head and walked towards the front door.

"Why would I want to speak with you?" She asked nonchalantly, hiding her true curiosity for his answer.

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." 

"Did you make that up on the fly?" She goaded, needing this conversation to not be so heavy anymore, needing redirection. She placed her hand on the doorknob, twisting it and opening the door.

"It is from the Book of John." 

Rook held it open, her not-so-vague way of indicating that their conversation was over. He stood for a moment, considering, before making to leave. Pausing in the doorway, his left hand came up to cup her cheek. 

"If you need me, I will listen." 

Rook was grateful he did not linger, walking away from her and off the porch towards the driveway. She waited until he had got in his car and left before slamming the door closed and letting her breaths turn ragged as she willed her emotions away. That last declaration was too sincere, too close to what she was now realizing she wanted, and it had made her instantly sad. And the more she tried to analyze why she was feeling so raw, the more she came to realize that on some level she wanted this crazy cult man to listen to her. Rook paced the cabin furiously, shaking her arms out to shake off the feeling of him standing so close, his lips looking so soft, his eyes so intense - always intense.

Yes, she wanted to talk about her thoughts of late, she wanted _absolution_ for all of the blood on her hands. If she could do it over again it would probably turn out the same - these peggies were constantly after her life for chrissakes. She was just defending herself, defending the people of Hope County who didn't want to be part of Eden's Gate. All she ever wanted was to protect people, she still kept her badge on her in the hopes that one day the county would be restored and she could serve normally. Yet here she was, flustered like a schoolgirl over Joseph, when he was the same man who kidnapped people and advocated their torture at his brothers hands. He was just as much of a murderer as she was, he was just on a different side. A side he thought was just, one he seemed to truly believe would save the most people from whatever the 'Collapse' was. 

She threw the next hour or so into trying not to think of how her and Joseph were alike, focusing on the main differences. Like how she had never really been too religious, and he was a zealot. She didn't force anyone to join the Resistance, he kidnapped people as a pastime. Rook exhausted most every train of thought she could until her shoulders relaxed and she didn't even know why she had let Joseph get under her skin in the first place. Only when she felt positive once more that she wasn't a horrible person, was it finally time to return to her map. 

Rook picked up the pencil that had fallen and marked a circle next to the Throne of Mercy Church just south of Eden's Convent. It wasn't too long a trek for her and Boomer, they could head there and scout it out by the time the day was over. She would learn what she could about the area around the jail before moving on to one of her most ambitious plans since she rocketed John's "YES" sign to pieces. The destruction of the statue of the Father. The area surrounding Angel's Peak was expansive, with the statue itself on top of the a mountain in the center. It would definitely be an undertaking, but she would work up to it. 

\-----

"Boomer!" Rook exclaimed and ran towards her faithful canine companion. He ran at her and met her halfway, jumping onto her and knocking her back onto her ass as he licked her face - tail wagging back and forth in his happiness. It had only taken another hour until Miss Mable had radioed her and told her that her dog had been dropped off and was currently defecating on her lawn. 

"Whosa good boy?" Rook cooed, rubbing his head with one hand and patting his side with the other, maneuvering her face so the only target of his slobber was her cheeks. Miss Mable watched from her window, the smoke wafting from her cigarette as she grimaced at the display. 

"Hi Miss Mable!" She waved, calming Boomer down and standing up once more.

The older woman shook her head and walked off into the house. She looked at Boomer and he tilted his head at her. Whispering conspiratorially, "You poop on the mean lady's lawn? Good boy!" 

Together they crossed the river and quickly made it to Eden's Convent. Her ankle had been feeling better after hours of resting it, she was lucky it hadn't been more severe - otherwise she would have had to stay in that cabin doing nothing for another week. Greeting the Resistance members there she bought a grenade to replace the one she'd lobbed the other day, and of course a decent amount of treats for Boomer, before moving south towards the church. 

They made it around sunset with only two wolverine attacks - a record low, in her experience. The church itself was tiny, painted white with boarded up windows and broken down doors. Like most locales it had been abandoned and ransacked, with graffiti spray painted on the walls. Rook made sure the surrounding area was clear, leaving Boomer to keep watch while she headed inside. There were empty prayer-candle holders against the wall, a door lay off its hinges on the ground, and the altar table was knocked over. For a few minutes she allowed herself to stand alone in the quiet space, imagining what this place of worship was like before things got out of hand. She ran her fingers over the scattered bullet holes in the wall, reading the various sentences sprayed above them. 

_'Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be filled'_

_'Rescue me from my sins; let me not be derided by fools'_

She reached the altar and knelt to pick up a small piece of paper, reading it quickly and grinning to herself as she pocketed the location of another shrine. That would wait for another day. 

Quickly, so as to utilize the fading light before the sun set completely, she searched for anything to loot. Although the place had mostly been picked clean, in the back room she was able to crack the lock in a combination safe, stuffing around two hundred and fifty dollars into her pack. Rejoining Boomer she gave him a treat and a scratch behind his ears before they turned back and headed to the cabin. Rook had managed not to kill anyone that day (sorry wolverines), and she had one of her best pals trotting along beside her. She had felt lighter than she had in days. If only every day could be this simple. 'If only' a lot of things. 

When you lose yourself in the trails, and don't run into any peggies, it is almost easy to forget Hope County was a war zone. Boomer bounded up the porch stairs and spun around eagerly for Rook to catch up and unlock the door. She made a makeshift bed for him out of spare blankets near the couch, and filled a bowl with water. The place seemed brighter already, and Rook looked through the cabinets in the kitchen until she found a glass bowl to keep the dog treats she had bought, keeping it on the counter. She dove into bed with a sigh after stripping off her boots and jeans. Sleep, for once, found her easily. 

_That night she dreamed she was walking through darkness. It did not scare her to have no light, but she was walking blindly as if searching for a switch. She swore she had known where it was, but her hands found nothing as she walked. Every time she expected her hand to catch on a switch, she met with nothing. A familiar voice reached her ears, making her shiver. It was murmuring so low she could not make out what it was saying, but it soothed her as she despaired over finding light. At least in this darkness she was not alone, it seemed. Rook tried following the voice but it was emanating from every direction, and eventually she gave up trying to find it's source. There was no light to be seen, the switch to be found, and she couldn't find anyone. So she sighed and lay down on the black ground and let herself relax into it, her body slowly dipping inward and being swallowed whole beneath the ground. Then she felt peace._

When she woke up in the morning she was thinking of that voice, the feel of being pulled down, and the peace. Stretching out languidly she rolled over, eyeing the radio on her nightstand and deliberating. 

A few minutes passed by.

She reached her hand out and grasped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your feedback and support! All comments are treasured! I hope you enjoy.


	4. Scruples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Attempted sexual assault.

"I don't want to this to be like a confessional." 

"Of course you wouldn't. But you should take that first step." 

When Rook had woken up she decided that if it would help her conscious, take her mind off of things, or maybe even help her predict the cults movements, she would radio Joseph. Their interest in each other, while confusing, could also be seen as an opportunity. Sleepily she had tuned to frequency thirty three with a 'good morning' and their conversation so far had been pretty cyclical. Joseph always brought things back to redemption and salvation, she always brought things away to musing over everyday things. Though he had seemed frustrated at this, he had infinite patience. It made sense that if the Father was good at anything, it was listening. He had told her he would listen to her, and credit where credit was due he was. 

At the moment she was packing up and tying her bootlaces, getting ready for another day out and about. She was going to move in a little closer to Angel's Peak and start scouting the area. It was not something she could do in one day, she would have to map out the area surrounding the statue over the next few days, which would include encountering the pilgrimage trail at some point. It would be laden with peggies and she would need to take care of a lot of them to start clearing a path to the statue itself. 

"Look, I'm not going to join your cult. No steps." She declared forcefully, tugging her laces, "You wanted to listen and I feel like talking. Can't we just be two people discussing the weather?" 

"Will you at least tell me your name?" 

"You mean you haven't done your research on me? ...I am a little offended." 

"John tried. It seems they had not put your paperwork through before the first seal was opened." His voice held something new, a tinge of regret? 

"Well if you stop with the biblical stuff, maybe I will tell you." 

"That does not seem promising. I must go, Deputy. Try not to destroy too much." 

Rook scoffed and gave no reply, returning her radio to her hip. Boomer had finished gobbling up his food and was waiting at the door, his tail flopping patiently from one side to the other. Stepping out and locking the door behind her, she closed her eyes and tilted her head up, breathing in the fresh air. In her time here she had grown attached to the warmth on her face, the endless blue skies, and the friendly people trying their best in a crappy situation. Their destination for the day was ultimately decided by Virgil, who had heard of her break in radio silence and called on her for a little reconnaissance. Apparently some Resistance members and their families had not been heard from - so she was tasked with visiting three of their homes. The Vasquez, Barlow and McClean residences hadn't reported in to the jail in a few days and Whitehorse was worried. It wasn't too far off from her cabin and it had the added advantage of her getting to map out the eastern road around Angel's Peak. 

With a long day of travel ahead of her she broke off into a steady run. This time she wouldn't take the scenic routes - most of the homes were just off the main road anyways. Boomer tagged along happily, running ahead and barking if any skunks or wildlife scurried by. She had run track through most of her life, and when she graduated and started training for the academy she had never stopped. Falling into a steady breathing rhythm, she was halfway to the Vasquez house she noticed a man being knelt on the ground by a peggie in a long black overcoat. He was pacing around the poor guy with a machine gun in his arms, probably waiting for a transport. Rook darted into the trees before he could notice her and Boomer - creeping along until she was right behind him. When he started pacing away from her she broke cover and came up behind him, slamming the butt of her rifle into the side of his head, perhaps a little more forcefully than she meant to. He fell forward and hit the asphalt, silent and unmoving. Rook turned to the captive who was looking up at her with wide eyes, struggling against his bindings. She pulled out her knife and made quick work of his ties, ripping the tape off of his mouth and trying her best to not to think of the trickle of blood seeping from the peggie on the ground. 

The freed captive grabbed her hands and thanked her profusely, she nodded and gave him the proper directions to get him to the Resistance at the Hope County Jail. Before she continued on she radioed Whitehorse and told him keep patrols alert for a fleeing civilian. The rest of jog to the first house was uneventful. She turned off the main road and followed a rounding dirt path to a home that, from the outside, looked unscathed. Boomer went sniffing around the property and surrounding forest, he knew immediately what their usual drill was. After all they had been together since her early days in Hope County, one of her first companions she found upon venturing off of Dutch's island. With nothing suspicious or out of place that she could see she tried the front door and it swung open. The house was clean, all the furniture in place, nothing looted and destroyed. For all intents and purposes the people who lived here could simply be out for the day. 

She studied the bass hung on the wall in the living room and the fishing poles lined up on the wall. Finding a note next to their phone she was able to deduce that whoever lived here had gone fishing to catch one mother of a bass. She had to admire someone's ability to stop and get some fishing in even with everything that was happening. Hell, she almost did the other day. After one last walkthrough of the house she left, closing the door behind her and radioing in the update to Virgil. One down, two to go. 

Next up was the Barlow residence, she headed along the main road directly south. This time along the way she was crossing the road and intent on making a beeline through the brush directly to the offroad house when two peggies emerged from around a tree, they saw her and their eyes widened in immediate recognition. Damn those wanted posters! Quicker with her reflexes, Rook pulled out her 1911 and took cover behind the nearest tree, narrowly avoiding a bullet as they began shooting at her. Boomer ran forward and caught one of them off guard, when she heard the man yelp in pain she rounded the tree and took aim at the peggie still firing in her direction. All it took was a quick squeeze of the trigger and a silent shot landed right between their eyes. When Boomer finished off the peggie he had tackled to the ground Rook let out a relieved exhalation, keeping her gun out in case anyone else was nearby. Slowly she stepped towards the bodies and grimaced as she looked down at them. Stooping low she looted their pockets and tucked away some money and casings. She didn't linger on their wallets, their IDs or any photos within. They had shot at her first, they started it. She wasn't going to go down that rabbit hole right now. 

The Barlow residence was a messier scene than the previous. As she approached with her pistol still at the ready she counted at least two dead bodies outside. Before she investigated them she cleared the area once more with Boomer. There was blood all around the front lawn, maybe those Eden's Gate members she killed were just leaving this place. Holstering her weapon once more she went to the bodies, trying not to tremble as she noticed in the long metal Eden's Gate rod plunged through one of them. She knelt and tried to avoid looking at the impaled area, searching the pockets, not for loot, but for confirmation that these were the Barlow's. Once she confirmed it she radioed the jail, giving them the bad news. Rook stood up and moved towards the house, immediately noticing bouquets of bliss flowers hanging from the porch, along with an Eden's Gate flag. The house itself was boarded up and the doors locked, which was fine since she felt no need to linger here longer than necessary. Though she did find and peel a bloodied note with another shrine location off the ground on her way off the property.

The last stop of the day was the McClean residence, which was also south down the road. This property was even messier than the Barlows'. It looked as if all of their furniture had been taken out of the house and piled onto their lawn. Mattresses, a fridge, dressers, and more. Mixed in with the bigger pieces of furniture were cardboard boxes filled with personal belongings. Rook would have thought they were getting ready to move if not for the Eden's Gate flag hanging proudly across the windows. As she rounded one of the many stacks of furniture her gut clenched as she found more dead bodies. These people had Eden's Gate rods stuck through them as well. The house was locked up like the last one, but before Rook could call in bodies she spotted the McClean's bunker doors. With little effort, Rook pulled opens doors, noting that they were not locked like other bunkers. A blood trail lead down the stairs, and when Boomer went to hop down the to sniff around she stopped him and patted his head. She bid him keep watch and carefully stepped around the blood as she descended into the bunker. 

The very first room was a kitchen area, and there were obvious signs of a struggle. A chair was turned over, blood splatter on the floor, along with knocked over utensils and a shattered coffee machine. Rook checked beyond that first room and saw no hint of destruction further in, leading her to assume that whoever was in here had been in the front room when the peggies came in and dragged them outside. Rifling through the papers by a television in the living area, she found a note from someone named Travis, who had probably been the one forced out of here. The messy handwriting claimed that the peggies kept coming to recruit him and he was thinking of escaping because he knew they would take him soon. Rook sat on the couch, reading the note over a few times, getting angrier by the minute. Travis, it seemed, had died before he could leave the county. The Barlow's hadn't made it either. 

She took out her radio and set the letter down, tuning to the frequency she had used that morning.

"Why do you force people to join? Is it not enough to lead willing people?" Rook didn't try to keep the contempt out of her voice, sitting impatiently and tapping her foot. The sound of it echoed off the empty walls of the bunker, the only noise until he responded a little over a full minute later. 

"Deputy. Everyone deserves a chance at salvation."

"That is bullshit!"

" _Language_ , Deputy." He said, tiredly. 

"Tell me why? Why aren't the faithful enough? Why the rest of Hope County, too?" She demanded, voice raising with every word. Her fury did nothing to jar his calm attitude. 

"I must save as many people as I can. The Collapse is coming, have no doubt of that." 

"And if it doesn't?"

"A reckoning is coming. If we need to force people to confess, atone and join us in the holy safety of our bunkers, then so be it. They would understand after the Collapse comes. If not, it is a mercy to kill them before God's wrath strikes this land." 

"It sounds like a lot is riding on this Collapse happening, and you being right." 

"We are nothing without faith. When the world burns, everyone - regardless of if they were willing - will see the truth. That I am right." 

Rook stood up and sighed. All these terrible things, it makes sense that Joseph is doing them if he believed that having people join Eden's Gate will save their lives. But it was simply his word, with no proof or sign that he was right and not delusional. It wasn't enough. He stayed silent on his end, waiting for her next reply to him. If anything, his tone had seemed pleased. Maybe she was finally asking about a topic he was happy to answer about. In the distance she could hear a bark from Boomer and then silence. It was quiet after that, maybe just some pesky wildlife getting too close. Avoiding getting blood on her boots as she walked through the kitchen, she headed up the stairs and out of the bunker. 

"I was just in a bunker. This guy, Travis, he just wanted to leave. He didn't want salvation or mercy, he jus-" 

Rook never got to finish her sentence, because the butt of a rifle hit her square in the jaw, knocking her down to the ground and sending her radio flying to the ground a good six feet away. The person stepped one foot onto her back, applying their body weight to keep her down. 

"Looks like I found a sinner!" An unfamiliar male voice hooted. 

Stars had burst behind her eyelids as she tried to blink them away, pain blossoming in her cheek. She could barely make out Boomer whimpering across from her, laying prone, blood seeping from a wound on his stomach. There had been no gunshot, if this fucker knifed her dog, then-

The peggie pressed down on her back harder, causing the breath to whoosh out of her. Her sight started to clear but she struggled to inhale air with her ribs pressed painfully against the hard ground. If she could reach her arms up or kick her legs out a bit… The man grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over, aiming his gun in her face. She held her hands up on either side of her face, eyes looking down the barrel to the bearded peggie pointing it at her. 

"Holy shit." He breathed, his face contorting in anger as he took in her face and her Deputy badge. "It's you! You killed my friends, you Godless heathen!" He spat out. 

"Which ones?" She goaded, keeping a mask of amusement on her face to hide her frustration at being caught off guard. He snarled and made to smack her with his gun again, but she took the movement as an opening - pushing the rifle away to break it's line of fire and grabbing his wrist. She twisted it with all of her might, causing him to curse and drop his rifle. Unfortunately losing his gun freed his other hand to come forward and wrap around her neck. She kept one of her hands gripped on his wrist, nails digging into his skin and drawing blood, and used her other to claw at his face. 

"Get the _fuck_ off of me!" Rook wheezed, prompting him to squeeze harder with his one hand.

"You are filthy! You do not deserve to join us in Eden!" He voiced, breath ragged from struggling against her, straddling her hips to keep her pinned down as her other hand struggled to keep his free hand away. From the corner of her eye she could see Boomer try to stand, only to shakily slip back down. Blood was trailing down her attackers wrists, she could feel the punctures where her nails had broken his skin. Rook choked, her throat burning with effort to take air in, she kicked her legs out behind him feebly. Her head hit the ground again and again as he shook her by the neck. 

"I know what you deserve…" He panted ominously, tilting his head away to try and escape her clawing hand - which had already left angry red scratches all over his face. The spots forming in her vision did not keep her from seeing the darkening of his eyes, the one hand reaching down to his belt --

Her heart leaped in her chest and she willed herself to calm down, risking letting his other hand go so that she could quickly bring her other hand to his face, pressing down on his eyes with her thumbs, so hard that they hurt with the pressure. He yelped and released her throat, hands coming up to wrench hers off of his face. She inhaled greedy gulps of air and when he took her hands from his face she launched her fist at his crotch. He let out a grunt of pain and curled in on himself, Rook immediately used this opportunity to punch him in the face next, pushing him off of her and scrambling towards where his rifle had fallen. He had enough clarity through his pain to grab her ankle and try and drag her back towards him. She clawed at the ground and kept pulling herself away, swinging her free leg back until it connected with his face - she felt the crunch of his nose breaking under her boot as he let out a yell of pain. With no time to hesitate she closed the distance between her and the gun, picking it up and rolling over - taking just a moment to aim at the bleeding man still stubbornly reaching for her - before she pulled the trigger. 

She fell back and tried to get her breathing under control. Coughing and gathering the blood in her mouth to one side, she turned her head and spit it out. Quickly remembering Boomer she slowly sat up, fighting off a wave of dizziness. Her ribs ached and she could feel the right side of her face swelling from the impact that had knocked her down. 

"Deputy? ...Deputy come in." Joseph's insistent voice repeated from her radio. Had he been calling out this whole time? The worry was evident in his voice. 

"Deputy answer me." 

She crawled on all fours to the radio, grabbing it with the hand covered in blood from grabbing the man's wrist so harshly. Continuing on towards Boomer to inspect his wounds she wished she could shoot the guy again. What kind of asshole hurt a dog? 

"Dep--" 

"Here. I'm here." She whispered hoarsely. 

"What happened?"

"I ran into a…" she paused, swallowing, "member of your 'flock'. He attacked. I...I had to..." She closed her eyes, unable to finish the sentence, breathing still uneven. 

"Where are you?" 

"T-the McClean's house."

"Are your injuries severe? I can have you brought to me."

" _No_!" She said quickly, inhaling shakily, sitting back on her haunches. "No. I am...I am gonna go to the jail. Boomer...he needs medical help, too." 

There were a few moments of silence on his end before a reluctant, "Alright, Deputy." 

"Grace." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"My name," she closed her eyes and grunted as she stood up, picking Boomer up holding him steady against her, "is Grace." 

"Yes...of course it is. If you do not mind, I would like to stay on the line with you until you reach the jailhouse."

"...Sure."

\-----

Joseph had stayed on the channel, talking to her until she got close to the jail. Seemingly sensing her distress he had kept away from the usual topics that annoyed her, speaking of what a beautiful night God had blessed them with. Of how the fireflies would be coming out later that month, and how Boomer was a resilient dog who would endure to protect her another day. Rook was incredibly grateful, letting his voice soothe her frayed nerves as she quickly made her way to the jailhouse. Like she had wanted that morning, they were just two people talking about the weather. After awhile, between Boomer's whimpering and her own emotions, her bottom lip wobbled. 

"I...I killed him. He attacked me...he was gonna… I had to, Joseph." She whispered as she neared the jail. She would need to get off this frequency soon unless they were heard speaking to one another. It was silent for a moment as Joseph contemplated a response.

"Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." He spoke slowly. "My children know the risk of going after sinners. Especially if they have sins of their own. God will know, and be just." 

Rook sighed and readjusted Boomer in her arms, keeping as strong a grip on him as she could while holding the radio as well. "So I'm just a sinner to be taken and purified?" She kept an eye on her surroundings, if any Resistance members were spotted she would turn off her radio. 

"Everyone is a sinner. Even myself once. What matters is that we confess and atone. Repent for our trespasses, open ourselves up to the Lord's forgiveness." He countered. She walked along, doubting his words. She had never had any sign that there was a higher power out there to forgive her and wash away the things she'd done. Before she could tell him that he continued, "Do you not feel better, confessing your sin to me? The life you took...you were just in defending yourself." 

"I have to go." She whispered, seeing the jail appear in the distance, eager to get inside and get treatment. Even though she would like to keep talking, to tell him she did feel better telling him. 

"Grace-" 

"Bye." She mumbled, using her thumb to switch the frequency and quickly clipping the radio back to her hip before returning to hold Boomer. They spent the rest of the day getting patched up, Boomer got stitches and some pain relievers. Rook had an ice pack put on her face and her throat checked for any permanent injury. Luckily there was none, all she was to come away with were bruises on her right cheek, her back and all around her neck. She looked in a mirror, wincing as she traced the bruised outlines of that man's hands. It had been a close one, she should have been more careful. Now it would be Boomer's turn to lay around the cabin and rest, at least until his stitches came out. Later they borrowed a car and Rook drove them home. Carrying Boomer into the house she laid him down on his bed, where he dozed soundly. She gave him a kiss on the head and took a quick shower, eager to get the dirt and blood off of her before she touch her sheets this time. 

In a big Hope County t-shirt and clean underwear she decided to sleep on the couch next to Boomer, taking the blanket from the bed and draping it over herself on the couch. Her throat still ached and her cheek pulsed painfully, but she would live another day. She listened to Boomer's soft snoring and focused on it, unwilling to think about phantom blood under her nails. 

Grace fell into a dreamless sleep, keeping her pistol in her pack for once, and her radio tucked under her pillow instead.


	5. Concurrence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some get to know each other time before things get rolling.

The sounds of a low murmuring and the jingle of Boomer's collar greeted her ears when she awoke the next morning. With a groan, all the sensation came back into her abused jaw, along with aches around her throat and lower back, where the peggie had so kindly stepped upon with all his weight. Slowly sitting up on the couch Grace rubbed her eyes and yawned. Remembering the sounds she heard she turned her head a bit to look towards the source of it. Her body seized in alarm for just a moment before relaxing again. Joseph knelt a few feet past the doorway, offering one of her doggie treats to Boomer, who sniffed and licked at his hand before grasping the treat in his mouth. 

"Traitor!" Grace called in disbelief, Boomer looked over with the treat half hanging from his mouth. With a guilty look in his eyes he scrambled away with his treasure out the front door. It wasn't a very fast getaway because of his wound, but the attempt made her smile nonetheless. The sounds of his happy growls and slobbers as he crunched on his treat could be heard from his retreat on the front porch. Grace sighed, she had been so worried when she saw him bleeding on the ground. 

"Some guard dog." She mumbled, running a hand through her wavy hair to make some sense of the tangles. Her voice was a bit raspy, but it was not as bad as it had been last night. Joseph stood up and walked over to the couch. 

"He is a smart companion. He knows I will not harm you." 

"You won't?" She asked jokingly, before realizing with sudden clarity that she was only able to joke about it _because_ she truly believed it. At least that he wouldn't hurt her here, in this haven. Was she an idiot for trusting him, even though he had always kept his word? Maybe it was only a matter of time before he tried to drag her back to his compound. Maybe this was his infamous charisma at work. As she was thinking he sat down on the couch facing her, right arm stretched out to the side to hold onto the sofas frame as he leaned forward and took note of her wounds. It seemed less of an invasion of her personal space this time, but maybe she was just getting used to Joseph's constant need for close proximity. His expression was unreadable as she watched his eyes scan her over and take in her bruised jaw and throat. He reached up with his rosary tangled left hand and brushed his fingertips lightly over the black and blue on her jaw. 

When she didn't flinch he trailed his fingers lower, tracing the finger shaped bruises on her neck and making her shiver at his gentle touch. He looked her in the eyes, then, and neither moved. Unwillingly to move away, his hand stayed resting gently on the side of her neck. 

"I am sorry." He said, finally breaking the silence. Closing his eyes he bent his head forward and for a brief moment Grace thought that he might kiss her, but instead she felt his forehead warm against hers. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the her train of thought, why in the world would he kiss her? Of course, this was a gesture she had seen him do with John and his other followers multiple times. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his in turn, it didn't feel as awkward as she thought it would. Grace did not tell him that he was forgiven, or that he shouldn't be sorry. Peggies were too damn violent, and he wasn't about to get a free pass. Thinking then about the blood on her own hands, she pulled away from him and shook her head. 

"This is how most of my interactions with peggies end up." 

He frowned, thoughtfully. "When the Reaping began we took people to save them, using force when we had to. We still do. That force leads to violence, which leads to more sin. It is regrettable."

"Then stop! Tell your faithful to leave people alone, to stop shooting on sight!" She rasped, stopping to cough into her hand. Joseph stood up, walking towards the kitchen and going through cabinets until he found a glass. As he stood at the sink filling it with water, he responded. 

"The Collapse is coming. We must atone under His eye and stay safe in our bunkers until it is time to march through Eden's Gate." He walked back over and handed her the glass, which she took and drank greedily from. The cool water soothed her parched lips and throat, Grace downed the glass in record time and placed it down, mumbling a thank you to a bemused looking Joseph. Seeing him for the first time with a lightened expression brought a question to her mind, it tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. 

"Why don't you hate me?" 

Joseph lowered himself back to his seat on her couch, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward with his hands clasped together in front of him, rosary dangling between them as she continued, "I've killed your 'flock'. Destroyed your silos and shrines. Retaken property. And I'm going to keep doing it. But you are sitting here like we're buddies or something." 

"Because, Grace, I can save you." He declared quietly, with no hesitation. 

Her brow furrowed, not knowing if she should be feeling indignant or touched at his need to help her. On one hand she was fully capable of taking care of herself, and on the other hand she wanted help more than anything. Not with killing or wanting company, but with lifting this weight on her heart for all she had done, and would still do, for the people of Hope County. He leaned forward again and this time Grace closed her eyes and did the same, intent on meeting him halfway on the whole forehead-touching thing, when she felt his lips press gently onto her bruised jaw. She stilled and her eyes flew open, gazing over his shoulder in surprise as she took in the feel of his warm lips on her skin. They were soft and smooth, like tulip petals. Her bruise didn't seem to ache as much anymore.

He pulled away and stood. Looking down at her as he said with finality, "I will save you." 

Goosebumps puckered across her arms as he turned to leave. 

"I can't join you, Joseph." She called after him. He stopped without turning to look at her. "I will protect people from your family so long as they ask for my help." She couldn't let her friends down, couldn't stand to let the helpless fall to the cult. He may believe the world was coming to an end and that this would save people, but it wasn't something she could take his word on. Which ultimately made his actions wrong. 

"One day at a time, Grace." Was his only reply, before he left, patting Boomer's head on his way off the porch. 

\-----

One day at a time, indeed. Over the next few days she fielded radio calls about her wellbeing, assuring her friends that she was fine and as soon as Boomer could get his stitches taken out she would head out once more. Eventually he wouldn't stop licking said stitches, so she made a makeshift cone out of an old lampshade. It did the job, though Boomer had taken to sitting on his bed looking dejected. In her spare time she made sure she hadn't missed any trash in the house and headed out to the back to clean up any residual trash there from when she had burned everything. When she was finished with that she would patrol the area around the cabin and Peaches' Taxidermy. She didn't want to go too far without Boomer, just in case any peggies came by and he was all alone, but it kept her busy and stopped her from going stir crazy.

Well, that and Joseph's visits. 

She didn't tell any of her friends where she had been staying, always keeping it vague when they talked, because the moment she did was the moment she would never get any alone time. Grace loved her friends and their company, but she needed a quiet space and was intent on keeping her cabin to herself. After Joseph had come by to check on her wounds four days ago he had taken to stopping in unannounced for a little while once a day. He would look over her slowly fading bruises and give Boomer a treat and stay for a half hour or so before leaving. They did not have that much in common to talk about, Joseph did not listen to music that wasn't on the cult radio, he did not watch movies, or do much outside of being The Father. 

"So you have no hobbies?" 

"I am a fervent reader of biblical stories."

"That doesn't count." 

"If I enjoy it, is it not a hobby?"

"It can't be a hobby if it's also your job. A hobby is something you do in your spare time." 

Their banter continued this way most of the time, rarely getting heavy in subject. Joseph seemed to sense her skittishness and held back on overbearing amounts of religious talk as long as she was willing to hold back on bashing his cult. He didn't change himself for her, it felt more like he was trying to ease her into it. Like a long, coaxed out confession game. Grace didn't mind anymore, it was interesting to hear talk of his beliefs and goals without the pain and death part of it. She still couldn't take his word on the end of the world - but his conviction and faith was admirable. She found herself envying someone who had a goal and moved towards it with no doubts. 

"And what about you, Grace?" He inquired, leaning back against the kitchen counter, thumb running along the beads of his rosary. 

"Reading. Jigsaw puzzles. Baking. Running…" She counted a few off on her fingers from her seat on the couch, Boomer's head resting on her leg as they talked. "Most normal people have a few." 

"I have learned to garden."

"Wow...that is...something." She declared slowly, picturing him in overalls and a straw hat, kneeling in the dirt to plant begonias. 

"It is important to know agriculture if we are to survive after the Collapse." He deadpanned. 

"Of course, that makes more sense than assuming you had a passion for flowers." The corner of his mouth twitched and she cheered a silent victory in her head. While he had not expressed a fondness for small talk at first he had grown adept at it over the last few days. He was still Joseph Seed, a zealot with intense looks, preacher wear, scars and tattoos, etc. But in this cabin he seemed more human, she had to remind herself more than once of what he was capable of. He left a few minutes later and Grace stared at the place he had been standing for a long time. She remembered the heat of flames, the smell of smoke, Joey passed out in the seat next to her as they hung upside down. He had crouched in front of her then, and she would never forget the look in his eyes as he sang to her. _'No one is coming to save you'_ he had said...and maybe that was true. No one was coming, if they were going to they would have by now. But maybe the one to keep her sane was already here anyways. 

Her anxiety ramped up a little as she followed that last train of thought - she had no word from anyone outside of the county since the night she tried to apprehend Joseph Seed. No calls from her family, no backup, no one wondering what happened to Burke - who had been a damned Federal Agent sent to Hope County. If no one had noticed _him_ missing, let alone a whole county gone quiet, then that means they were focused on something else. Dread creeped up on her, cold and foreboding as any nightmare she'd had. There was no way to check up on what was happening in the world right now, there was no cell signal, no internet, the tunnels leading out of the county had been collapsed in on themselves. The only way people were able to even communicate long distance now was through the radio waves. The only exception were the pre-recorded videos broadcast from one of the cable channels the Project kept broadcasting for themselves. Everything else they jammed. 

Grace shook those thoughts away, one thing at a time. Get this county back to normal before worrying about the world beyond. Until the Resistance found out where they were jamming everything from nothing could be done. She looked down at Boomer, who was for whatever reason licking her jeans, and gave him some head scratches. His wound hadn't been that severe and she would drive him down to the jail that day to get his stitches removed. Tomorrow would be a fresh day back on the road. She had scouted out enough of the area beforehand that she could start planning a route straight to the statue on Angel's Peak. Maybe she would let Boomer chill at the jail and she could take Sharky along. She had told him she would stop by the trailer park soon, and he was always down for some demolition. 

\-----

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly, they went and got Boomer's stitches out and he was back to happily running around faster than she could keep track, but he was probably happier still to have that cone off. Grace left him in good care with every intention of reaching Sharky tomorrow, so she headed back to the cabin alone, only stopping at the river on the way to catch herself something to have for dinner. A full stomach and a shower later she found herself in bed resting. The cabin was quiet without Boomer's idle noises, just the sounds of crickets and her own breathing, which seemed louder in her ears the longer the night went on. Grace fiddled with her radio, contemplating if she should radio Joseph before her mind got away from her. Silence got under her skin at night when she was trying to sleep, too many worries or questions in her mind. But it was around midnight, and she had no idea if he would even be up right now. 

"Joseph?" She prompted, whispering in case he wasn't alone, or was sleeping. The reply came a few thumping heartbeats later, his voice tired and puzzled. 

"Grace. Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine. It's just too quiet." There was another silence where she imagined him sitting up in bed.

"Where is Boomer?" 

Grace sighed and glanced at the empty dog bed across the cabin. "He's at the jail. Let him stay there after his stitches got removed." 

"I see. And I am...a solution to your quiet." 

"I could call someone else."

"I have told you. If you need me, I will listen." 

"You _have_ been rather truthful." 

"Life must have thrown wicked people into your path, if being truthful is remarkable." 

"Life isn't great for most people." 

"What about your life, Grace?"

"I don't know how I feel about it right now." 

"I am more than willing to learn about the life that brought you here." 

"I told you I didn't want that."

"Well, I don't believe you." He spoke slowly, a modicum of mirth in his sleepy voice as he threw her words from days ago back at her. Her mouth dropped open and she sputtered for a moment before replying.

"Were you just _smart_ with me, Joseph Seed?" 

"That would be a miracle. Goodnight, Grace."

The channel went silent and she grumbled, ' _Coward.._ ' she shook her head to herself in the darkness of her cabin, tucking the radio under her pillow. Now she felt distracted enough to make a serious attempt at sleeping. 

_When Grace opened her eyes she was laying in a grassy field. The grass was emerald green and reached high up into the air. A strong wind made her shiver, the grass brushing against her skin tickled, and the sun was....not there? She squinted up towards it and where light should be shining through was pure black. The moon eclipsed the sun, changing the light around her and turning the sky red. She blinked her eyes and turned away from it to see Joseph laying next to her. He was relaxing himself, and as the first time she met him he was without a shirt. His scars and tattoos revealed for all to see. So many...the tattoos and writing were obvious, but he had other scar tissue as well scattered all over. In the distance she could hear voices calling out to her, 'Deputy!' 'Rook!', she strained to hear what direction they were from._

_When she tried to move her body felt heavy, she was barely able to lift her head up. She tried to lift any one of her limbs up for awhile, before deciding to just ignore the voices calling to her. They would never find her here amongst the tall grass. She turned her head again to look at Joseph and shrieked when she saw his face, eyes dilated, teeth bared as his expression contorted into one of fury. "I said I would save you." He hissed, and before she could think his hand lashed out and grasped her neck, squeezing savagely._

With a sharp inhalation Grace's eyes flew open, heart beating out of her chest as she reached a hand up to touch her neck. The bruises there had yellowed out, and she could feel the phantom squeeze of Joseph's hands around her neck still, thoughts swarming with the image of his angry expression. Dawn was just breaking as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had gotten too comfortable with Joseph, she had no idea what she was thinking. Maybe if she tried to stop him some more he would just give up on her and gouge her eyes out like that poor man in the video she had seen. 

"C'mon Grace, get those walls up!" She slapped her cheeks and shook off the stupor her dream had left her in. They couldn't be friends. They couldn't be anything but enemies. That would be made abundantly clear once she blew his statue up, he would probably be furious. It would be a firm reminder that these talks and his willingness to listen to her weren't enough for her not to go after the Project. This place was just a small haven, after all, and outside was still a warzone. She had been out of the fight for too long. She shouldn't come here too much anymore, this had been a bad idea from get go. Grace should have left the moment Joseph found out about this place. 

She shouldn't have gotten so comfortable. Starting today she would build her walls up again. And she would start by tearing things down.


	6. Bliss

"Grace? Where are you?"

Grace was a mile or two away from McCoy cabin. She had woken up at the crack of dawn after her dream roused her and she couldn't fall back to sleep. So she had decided to start her day early, getting to watch the pink and yellow hues seep into the sky as she plaited her hair atop her head. Normally she preferred to let it down her back, but she had the spare time and was planning on getting shit done today. None of this sitting around waiting for Joseph routine she had inexplicably found herself in, and now that there was no Boomer to guard she would get back on track. Grace got dressed in her black jeans, Troublemaker shirt and camo jacket before stuffing her feet into her boots. After holstering her guns and sliding her arms through the straps of her pack she was able to leave before the sun was finished rising. 

Her plan was to check out a prepper stash she had almost forgotten about before heading to the Moonflower Trailer Park to see if Sharky was free to join her. She had gotten a tip from a civilian she saved a while back about a stash just north of the park. When she arrived there she found a crate with an open green lock box on top, a note was the only thing inside it. Taking it out, it read, _'Me and my buddy stashed some goods in a cave behind the waterfall. To get inside you'll have to stop the flow and grapple down'_. Great. Just how Grace wanted to start her morning. Well, she was here, might as well get it over with. 

Looking around the property she saw a zipline leading down to what appeared to be floodgates, but she didn't see an immediate way inside the cabin to get to where it started on the second floor. A good chunk of time could have been saved if she'd used her binoculars to see the gear wheel was missing, but instead she clambered down the rocky slope and reached it just to let out a stream of curses at the empty slot. There was no way to close the floodgates without it, so she would have to search the cabin. When she managed to climb back up to it she looked over the perimeter for any way inside. Grimacing as she found a blood trail that led to an open space under the cabin, she hopped down and found that part of the wood paneling on the first floor had been removed. 

Pulling herself up and inside, she navigated the cramped cabin and made her way up the stairs. This took awhile to accomplish - the doors and windows were boarded and barricaded, and there was so much furniture crowded together it was like a maze to walk through. Whoever lived here must have holed up in here, only to have the peggies break the floorboards and enter the way she had.

Grace let out an exaggerated exhalation as she reached the second floor and saw the missing gear wheel set down right by the open window and zipline. She shoved it into her pack, annoyed with herself for needing to backtrack, and grabbed the zipline. Riding it down to the floodgates, which always gave her a tingly feeling in her stomach, she worked the wheel into the slot and used both arms to turn it until the gates came down and stopped the waterfall. Cautiously walking to the edge of the gates, she was able to spot the grappling point and pulled her grapple hook out. She climbed over the safety rail and attached her hook, rappelling down slowly. The cave entrance itself was not that far down and she swung into it with little effort. 

She 'whooped' to her victory when she turned on her flashlight and saw the piles of money, magazines, and ammo - piled like treasure at the end of a pain-in-the-ass rainbow. There was even a first aid kit she could refill her own with. It was at this time, as Grace was shoving piles of money and ammo into her pack, that her radio crackled to life. 

"Grace?" Joseph. She had forgotten to change her frequency back to the jailhouses' when she had woken that morning. It struck her for a moment that he had never once called her Rook or Deputy since learning her first name. She had gotten so used to people calling her by title or last name, maybe she should tell more people? 

"Grace? Where are you?" 

Grace looked at her watch, it was almost noon. It had taken her a few hours to walk down here and find the stash location. One of the reasons she had left so early was to avoid him, knowing he would stop by like he always would. Contemplating not answering at all, she unclipped her radio and sighed before pressing down on the button. 

"Joseph. I'm not home." No answer would have a pleasant undertone, not when she was attempting to put space between the two of them. He was too easy to talk to, too distracting. And she couldn't think of a way to put it nicely. 

"I am aware." She pictured him standing alone in the middle of her cabin. She hadn't left anything there, not completely sure if she should keep it as a little haven anymore. 

"Go back to your compound. You won't find me there anymore." 

There was a long silence and Grace took the opportunity to finish shoving her loot into her bag and re-shouldering it. Maybe she should stop by the jail with Sharky and drop some of her carry weight off before they headed out. 

"Grace-" 

"Look, I don't know why you are so intent of 'saving' me, but I have to get back to retaking this county from a crazy cult. I know you don't care, but Resistance members are dying and I can't be holed up there waiting for tea time. So just go." She steeled her heart, imagining building a wall brick by brick that nothing could break through. 

"What are you afraid of?"

One brick, two brick...until sturdy walls came together. 

"Are you afraid that what happened in the Valley will happen with the rest of my family?" He continued, sounding like he was musing to himself rather than actually asking her. Joseph knew her enough to know she wouldn't respond. Let him wonder, she shouldn't feel like she owed him closure. 

"Goodbye Joseph." 

"For it is by Grace you have been saved, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is a gift from God." He asserted, sounding sure of himself. She heard the drop of white noise and knew he had left the frequency. With a resigned sigh she did the same, tuning to the jails channel and leaving the cave. The next half hour was quiet as she grappled back up the rocks, and since she was close enough she trekked towards the main road to follow it to Eden's Convent. There was no way she was going to _not_ get some upgrades for her equipment real quick now that she had found some more cash. When she was finished purchasing and attaching a red dot sight and extended magazine to her AR-C she heard the telltale sounds of a transport motoring down the river close by. Perfect, an opportunity to try out her new sights. 

Keeping low in the trees and brush, Grace spotted the bliss transport heading down the river towards her. It was a basic watercraft, but with an M60 mounted on it. One peggie drove and another looked around as he manned the gun. Still out of sight, she quickly lined up her sights with the gunner's head. If she took him out first then the peggie driving would have to stop the boat and investigate. She took a breath in and held it, keeping her hands steady and pulling the trigger just once on her exhalation. She was not disappointed in her aim, the cultist was hit right between the eyes and fell backwards off of the boat and into the water. The driver shouted in alarm and stopped as predicted. He had been too busy driving the boat to notice where the shot had come from, which bought her some time to fish out a stick of dynamite from her pack and light it. 

Normally she would just take the peggies out and bring a free boat to a Resistance dock, but there were large green barrels filled with bliss on this transport, so the whole thing had to go. Before the driver got the idea to flee she threw the dynamite onto the boat - it landed with a thud near the driver's seat. Grace scurried behind a tree and covered her ears. A few moments later there was a loud explosion, water splashed everywhere and she could feel the vibrations from it beneath her feet. Coming out from behind the tree, she walked to the river's edge and looked over the charred remains to ensure there was nothing for Eden's Gate to salvage. 

Once she was satisfied of her work, she had barely begun to step away and head back towards the outpost when her vision blurred. She squinted and waved at the fairy lights beginning to dot her vision. Damn, maybe sticking around after blowing up bliss barrels wasn't the smartest thing to do. She took a step back and tried to feel worried, but found herself suddenly and oddly complacent. Swaying in place she stumbled back against a tree trunk, not even feeling the impact. Her eyes strained with effort as she tried to not see in double vision. Her limbs relaxed and felt like jelly, so she let herself slide slowly to the ground, not caring that the bark of the tree was scratching against her back as she did.

A soft voice beckoned her as her vision went white, and she felt like she was falling, lighter than air. There was the shape of a woman in front of her, with light brown hair and blue eyes, Grace smiled lazily at her as she blew powdered bliss into her face.

_"Welcome to the bliss."_

\-----

_"I know you've heard stories about me. That I'm a liar. A manipulator."_

_Her vision cleared of the white fog that had overtaken it, and in front of her was a similar Eden to the one she had tried to reach in her nightmare so many nights ago. A blue butterfly fluttered past, drawing her eye as Faith's voice played like background music. Did all of the Seeds have such a light, comforting cadence to their voice? There was a large tree in the distance, and when she looked around at the field of flowers that seemed to stretch on for miles, she noticed Faith holding her hand._

_"That I poison people's minds… Well, let me tell you a different story."_

_She had such a sweet face, Grace listened but found it hard to actually follow and comprehend what she was saying. She was just so happy to be in Eden, finally, even though she had killed her way to get here. Eden was so hard to earn, she had been so afraid she wouldn't make it. Grace lifted her hand up and cupped Faith's cheek as she spoke, entranced by the soft warm skin beneath her palm._

_"A true story."_

_After walking her through the fields, fingertips grazing the flowers and grass, Faith sat her down and told her about herself, and how the Father had came to her and saved her. Grace replayed every moment with Joseph since they had met, all of the times he came to her when she was close to losing her mind. Faith grabbed her hand and pulled Grace along, pointing to the statue of Joseph she had failed to notice before, just visible through the cloudy sky. Faith continued on about how the Father had lifted her up, given her reason for being and helped her when no one else would. It all seemed so magical, almost too hard to believe, that anyone could be saved so easily._

_"The younger woman no longer wished to die. She had been given...purpose."_

_Grace stumbled back as Faith took to the air with clouds for wings. Something about it finally made a voice in the back of her head tell her that something was not right. Everything was tinted green, her vision still blurred around the edges. Faith flew in closer, reaching out to grab her hands._

_No, no, no...she did not belong in Eden. She was dirty. She hadn't atoned. Tears of fear streamed down her face and she shook her head. If she was brought to Eden she would only taint it. Despite her backing away, Faith grabbed her hands before she could voice anything, and flew her up onto the book the statue was holding. Softly, as if heard from a distance, she listened to Faith talk about something like testing one's faith, and not being let down by the Father. She let go of Faith's hands and looked around at the carvings on the stone book, the right page read 'The Prophecy', and the left had a large Eden's Gate cross._

_When she lifted her head up she gasped as she saw Burke standing in front of her, clear as day. What was he doing here? When he had left her to drown when they crashed into the river had he found Eden by himself? He reached out a hand to her, something about his eyes not as alive as she remembered._

_"Walk the path." He stated. Almost in slow motion he turned and spread his arms out - like an angel - and fell forward off the book. Grace stood surprised for a few moments as Faith disappeared in a puff of green bliss. It stayed quiet in their absence, and eventually she took some shaky steps forward, her vision swaying with vertigo as the first feelings of unease crept into her mind. The statue of Joseph was taller than most buildings. At least four or five stories high. The wind whipped her hair around her face as she stood at the edge and looked down. Maybe she could fly. Maybe all she had needed was a little faith. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and leaped._

\-----

When she regained consciousness she winced and shuddered, finding herself laying on the hard ground in a fetal position. It felt like she had been hit with a ton of bricks. She felt miserable, the wonders of the bliss fading and making everything seem and feel sadder. Her limbs felt tingly, like they had all fallen asleep and were just now waking up. She struggled to sit herself up with one arm, and wiped away the blur from her eyes with the other - though the sight that greeted her was not a welcome one. Around herself and the surrounding area were several dead bodies, each laying in a different position, pools of blood around each one. None of them were breathing, each one looked to have broken bones. The ground had a large white Eden's Gate cross painted upon it. Where the hell was she, and what happened here? She remembered blowing up the transport and then… Green. 

Grace put her hands over her face as she struggled to recall her blissed out encounter with Faith Seed. She had blown the stuff right into her face! Burke had been there...and she had been at the top of Joseph's statue. Lowering her hands she tilted her head back and looked around, realizing that the statue itself was up a large hill behind her. Her mouth fell open and she looked at the bodies around her again. Had they all _jumped_? Had _she_ jumped? If she had, how was she still alive? 

_"Do you feel different? Do you feel alive?"_ Faith's voice echoed in her mind, and Grace shook her head back and forth as if to shake it away. Armstrong had been right, this bliss shit was nothing to mess around with. She stood up shakily and walked around the area she had woken up in, finding that among the bodies were scattered cult bibles. 

"You are not here." She muttered to herself, ignoring Faith's voice in her ear. The aftereffects of bliss faded in and out, messing with her coordination. As she attempted to discreetly leave the area she found herself wobbling and tripping over tiny twigs like she was inebriated. How much had she been exposed to? Never this much, for sure. She always made a point to stay away from fields of bliss flowers, or even bliss canisters. 

_"The first step is always the scariest, but we all have faith in you."_

"Shut up, shut up…" Grace chanted like a mantra, her hands fumbling over herself to check what equipment she had on her. Her handgun, her knife, her radio… She unclipped it, and as if watching herself from outside her body, watched as she fiddled and tuned with her radio. There were moments of clarity where she could see straight, and then a few moments later her vision would blur again. She smacked her cheek with one hand, willing herself to stay in the moment and focus on getting somewhere familiar and safe. But there were a lot of woods around her, and it was all looking the same. 

_"Follow the Pilgrimage… Walk the Path… I'll see you soon…"_

"Shut up, shut up! You are not here! Shut UP!" She screamed, frustration reaching a boil as her shoulder smacked into a tree trunk that hadn't seemed so close a second ago. Birds retreated from their perches on branches at her outburst - she watched them fly off into the distance distractedly. 

"What is wrong? Grace?" 

A few moments passed as she came back to herself, looking down and blinking at the radio held in her hand. This was the Father's voice. When had she tuned the frequency back again? 

"Grace, answer me."

"Are you real?" She asked in a small voice, paranoid of what was real and what was just in her mind. 

"...I am real. What happened?" 

Grace took a moment to steady herself before continuing on, if she could find a road or a vehicle she could easily find out where she was. She didn't have her assault rifle or her pack, but at least she was still in the Henbane. She prayed her things were where she left them by the river side. Strands of her hair had come loose from her plait, she tried to smooth them out of her face as she wandered.

"Grace, what happened?" He repeated. Alright, that definitely came from her radio, she was a little over fifty percent sure. 

"I...jumped? Your statue. Faith flew me there. _I_ flew!" She slurred, not sounding completely like herself. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, normally it took a few tequila shots to get her to this point. She had underestimated the bliss and it's potency, she should have listened to the warnings. But it had felt so real, the wind in her hair, the stone beneath her feet. It must have been a hallucination, if not there was no way she would have survived a jump from the top of that statue.

"How much bliss have you been exposed to?" 

She blinked multiple times and shook her head, "Less words...please." She tripped over her own feet and nearly dropped her radio, cursing alone to herself. 

"Bliss." For once he sounded annoyed, "How much?" 

"Oh… I think… Handful? In my face. Powder." She mumbled, the beginnings of a headache forming in her temples. She put her free hand out in front of her and pantomimed Faith blowing it at her. Of course there was no one around to see her little display. 

"Where are you." It sounded more like a demand than a question and Grace frowned at his tone. She was actually pretty lost, so there was no answer for him there.

"I dunno, Joe." She shrugged. Not quite sure if it was just the bliss affecting her, but she swore she could see his frustrated expression, jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his radio. "Don't be sad, okay? I flew!" She exclaimed, smiling at the memory as burst of residual good feeling tingled through her bloodstream. She started an uphill walk as she came to an incline in the forest, the need to use more effort to walk up it steadied her steps a little more. 

"Grace, tell me wh--"

"Dunno. Gotta have, uhm..." She let go of the button quickly, trying to get her thoughts together, "...faith. Joe. I gotta go find it." 

" _Grace_ \--" 

Turning off the radio, cutting off his urgent tone, she reclipped it to her side. After another few minutes she stumbled to the top of the hill, thighs burning with the effort. But now she could see an asphalt road just past the treeline. Thank goodness, all she had needed was a little faith after all. The bliss was fading more with every minute, leaving fatigue and dizziness in its wake. 

Grace managed to stumble to the edge of the road, sinking to her knees, swaying for a moment, before slumping to the ground unconscious.


	7. Pretense

Whatever Grace had been expecting with her first real experience being 'in the bliss', she now knew had been a large miscalculation. She'd been expecting it to be akin to getting an extreme high combined with Faith's infamous manipulation. Definitely was not anticipating the hallucinations, the joy, her fears being voiced and answered, or the promise of peace and happiness. She went over the experience a million times in her head and could not know how much had been real and what hadn't, except she was pretty sure Faith couldn't sprout cloud wings and fly. 

The feeling coming out of it was worse than any hangover she experienced to date. Not only did she have a killer migraine and body aches, but her emotional state was erratic. When Grace opened her eyes and found herself laying on a cot in the Hope County Jail, she wanted very much to find that bliss again. That had to be the trick, like what she imagined coming down from a heroin high was like for addicts. It felt amazing, and then it went away and your normal dopamine levels seemed lackluster. For the next day or so she felt lost and desolate. It was hard to pull herself out of the emotional rut when reality was not as peaceful or comforting as was shown to her in the bliss. If not for her friends visiting and bringing her up where the bliss had left her down, she didn't know how much longer it would have taken to snap her out of it. 

She had made a point to radio the 8 Bit and tell Grace Armstrong that she was right. 

When she had first come to, and was conscious enough to hold a conversation, Whitehorse and Tracey sat down near her and told her about how a Resistance patrol had found her passed out on the side of the road and brought her back to the jail. She had been unresponsive, with bruises all over, the whites of her eyes hazed green when they tried to get a response from her. Grace shuddered to think of herself being in such a state. When she remembered her abandoned rifle and pack they had sent someone to the river where it all started to retrieve them for her. Thankfully they had been left in the grass and no one had stumbled upon then. All that had been left to do then was get better and thank the stars that the Resistance had found her and not Eden's Gate, instead. 

"We are kicking the hornet's nest, Rook." Whitehorse told her. They leaned against the rails overlooking the parking lot of the jail. It had only been three days, but she was well enough to be up and about. Every so often a patrol would pass by the on the ramparts, keeping vigilant for any signs of peggies. It wasn't unusual for Faith to plan attacks against the jailhouse, since it was the main hub of the Resistance in her region. 

"Yeah. A drugged up hornet's nest." She grumbled, trying her best to bring her humor back to the surface despite how low she had been feeling since waking. The fresh air helped.

"Taking on Faith, everyone ends up in the bliss at some point. Even myself." 

Grace looked over his way, seeing how tired he appeared in that moment. Well, more so than usual. The people of Hope County were the most resilient people she had ever met, they always inspired her to be stronger and better than she felt she was. When she saw them risking their lives to fight on another day, it gives her the will to do it herself. Before she could reply, an arm appeared in front of her, reaching for her shirt collar. She watched with interest as Virgil tutted and clipped a cougars pin onto her collar before moving on to do the same to Whitehorse. 

"Pins, people! We are the Cougars!" He scolded, walking away as quickly as he'd come, with a box of said pins in his hand, off to find his next victim. 

They both chuckled and shook their heads, leaving the pins on. 

"I saw Burke." Grace looked back out into the lot, "In the bliss." She added, when he gave her a surprised look. 

"Faith has had him for months. I don't know if he can ever truly be free of the bliss now." His tone sounded regretful. She, personally, never cared for the man. He was too abrasive, full of himself - not to mention the fact that he left her to drown in Henbane when their car careened off a bridge. 

"He told me to 'Walk the Path', what does that mean?" 

"The Pilgrimage. All of Faith's followers must follow a path marked by stone tableau's chronicling the life of the Father. It's a long trek." He paused, shifting uncomfortably, "Sometimes they have to carry a cast iron Eden's Gate cross on their backs. Most don't make it and die on the trail."

She grimaced at the thought, "And what is at the end of the trail?" 

"It ends at the statue itself. I'd stay away from the Path, Rook. It's a dangerous place, constant patrols and cultists making their pilgrimage."

For minutes they went silent, watching the rare car drive past in the distance, the gentle swaying of the trees. Her thoughts drifted to Joseph, the supposed Collapse, and the first time she had seen a body strung up beneath a cult cross. Was he a false prophet? Who knew. Lastly, she thought of all the time spent in that cabin trying to take a break from everything when no one else had gotten to. Grace let out a resigned sigh and stepped away from the rail, gesturing behind them towards the statue at Angel's Peak, just waiting for someone to destroy it. 

"Where is the first marker?" 

\----- 

If someone were to creep all the way up the dirt path close to the top of Angel's Peak, but stop when near the summit and head southwest towards Nature Cabin, the first marker of the path could be found. Of course, like Whitehorse had warned, there were peggies all around so simply walking along the pilgrimage was not an option. Unless you were Grace Elisabeth Rook. Then you knock out a peggie, hide their unconscious body in a bush, and put on their ratty cult clothes. She had plaited her hair this morning again to hide it under a grey beanie. It went well with the raggedy white cult shirt and baggy black pants. She looked just like any peggie now, but she still would have to be careful. Look pious and repentant, hopefully not speak to anybody, and with luck the Resistance wouldn't start a fight at the same time she was pretending to be one of them. 

This was just some friendly, no murder involved, reconnaissance.

She had the stops marked on her map, but she probably wouldn't need them, she could just follow other people. And since it would be suspicious to take it out along the path, she had done her best to memorise them. When she arrived at the location of the first tableau she was struck by how weird it felt to be walking around peggies and not having them yell and shoot at her. In her disguise and hair up under a hat they didn't think to look twice at her, most of them smiling and greeting her as they passed. There was a small wooden cabin with the number '1' on it, and the area was surrounded by hanging bliss flowers. A remembrance of the bliss running through her system made her shudder and keep a decent distance from them. She moved forward towards the stone and looked it over. 

Next to the tableau there were one of those Eden's Gate crosses on a long iron post she often saw impaled through the bodies of 'sinners'. She swallowed and looked down at the ground. There were bliss petals and broken sea shells placed around the stone itself - which read: _'I. The Call. Joseph Seed hears the voice. It calls on him to become a leader to give hope to wayward souls.'_

So these markers along the path seemed to be a simplified version of what Joseph claimed in his book. Grace sighed, realizing that she had read it and forgotten it under her bed in the Spread Eagle. Hopefully no one found it, that might raise some awkward questions. Smiling at the next set of peggies who came forward in her place to pray, she moved on towards the next one, which was just a few meters further south west. She kept smiling harmlessly at passersby and waited for a young peggie to finish his prayers and move on before heading over and looking down at the second stone, which read: _'II. The Cleansing. Joseph Seed affirms his obedience to the Voice by cleansing himself with his own two hands, becoming born again.'_

Grace had to smother a snort of laughter, covering her mouth and pretending to look contemplative. _'Yeah, I bet he_ cleanses _himself with both hands often. Okay, okay. Take this seriously.'_ She moved along, her shoulders less tense as she became accustomed to the feeling of walking among the cult. It felt so normal without gunfire and sin carving. The longer she walked the more normal they seemed. From what she heard people talking about as they walked to and fro, they were concerned about simple things like stocking the bunkers and making sure they ended up in the same one as their family. Did the crops get harvested? The last ones had gotten torched in the middle of a firefight. The water purifiers were working in the bunkers, thank the Lord. They really enjoyed this morning's sermon. Momma was making fresh bread with their dinner tonight. 

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as she walked and listened. They sounded so similar to Resistance members. It was always shoot on sight so words were never exchanged - each side seeing the other as less than human. Peggies had lives just like Resistance members, and it made Grace wonder what the cult was like before the Reaping began, if they ever had just been peaceful. Before she opened that supposed 'seal'. Finally she came upon the third marker, this one was a little further down from the last, getting dangerously close to Sharky's trailer park. Hopefully he wasn't home or didn't notice her here, if for whatever reason he decided to run up and torch the place. Actually, why hadn't he torched it already? She made a mental note to ask him the next time they spoke. 

The next one read: _'III The Father. Joseph Seed's message reaches the ears of his first true followers. They soon begin to call him their Father because of his great wisdom and guidance.'_ No smart comment on this one, she looked around for anything different but it seemed identical to the other markers so she proceeded on. To the cult's credit, this pilgrimage was not the fancy over-the-top religious journey she had anticipated. Just markers and people praying at them. So far there was only one dead body, fallen in the grass next to a large iron cross. So Whitehorse was right, it wasn't always such a peaceful journey. A peggie woman was laying them straight and putting their hands together on their chest, placing flowers, looking mournful for another faithful that hadn't been able to complete the journey. 

She kept an eye in the direction of the trailer park, the path went around it and she had never even noticed. There weren't many people at the fourth one, so she allowed herself to take her beanie off quickly to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead. It would be noon soon, and the sun was rising higher. Replacing the beanie before anyone appeared, she crouched down and read the fourth stone: _'IV The Revelation. The Voice reveals the coming Collapse, and the true purpose of Joseph's ministry: to save our souls from destruction and guide them to Eden's Gate.'_ At what point did Joseph decide that the faithful he had were not enough? How much of it was the Voice telling him to save more people, and how much was him wanting to save as many people as he could? If this was all true, anyways. 

The next marker had been on her scouting list but she hadn't gotten around to it, so she counted this as two birds with one stone. Eden's Altar was a peaceful plot of land that they had arranged wooden benches in a semicircle, stadium style facing towards a podium covered in flowers. The altitude was decent, and she could imagine how serene it would be to listen to a sermon up here when the sun was rising. Grace sat on one of the benches somewhere in the center. Some women placed various flowers around the podium, there were a few armed guards coming towards it and surveying th- oh _shit_. Why were guards here? Had someone noticed her? 

She put her head down and clasped her hands together gently as if praying, or thinking repentant thoughts. They didn't come close to where she was sitting, staying down by the front and walking the perimeter. Just guarding the Altar? No marker on the path had a group like this guarding it. 

Her mind raced for a minute before her heart sped up quickly to match it. 

Unless they weren't here to guard the marker. 

The realization hit her at just the moment Joseph and Faith Seed came up from the hill towards Eden's Altar. _'What the actual, living hell?'_ With the exception of their - _her_ \- old cabin he normally remained at his compound, trusting his siblings to run their respective territories. And except in the bliss and the night she arrested Joseph, she hadn't seen Faith in person ever. Before her gaze could linger too long she ducked her head down again, mouthing curses silently, probably looking like she was fervently praying. Grace wondered what terrible thing she had done in a past life, or this life, to warrant running into Joseph Seed this much. Like some cosmic force didn't like the idea of them _not_ running into each other over and over. Then her mood sank, remembering how much of a murderer she was. She was just like them, she couldn't even feel as much hate for them like she used to. She took some steadying breaths and willed the negative thoughts away, blaming it on the emotional lows she was still experiencing from her introduction to bliss.

Chancing a quick glance up she saw the two of them surveying the area, speaking with followers and talking to each other up by the altar. He was back to his usual shirtless self, his aviators on and rosary tangled around his left hand. Damn everything if he wasn't in good shape for his age, her eyes were drawn to his scars and tattoos. The tattoos were probably John's handiwork, but had he carved those words himself? It was so easy to forget they existed underneath his white collared preacher outfit. She couldn't make out what they were conversing over, but Faith's expression was almost nervous. Grace tapped her foot as thought of a way to inconspicuously move on without attracting notice, eventually deciding it was better to act natural and hide in plain sight. So she stood up slowly and nodded in passing at a few of the other peggies that were there. She made her way down the middle isle and past the rest of the benches. As she got nearer she was able to hear Joseph's voice. 

"...the potency will not help those who are capable of joining us in Eden." 

"If that is the will of the Father, but it-" 

"That level of bliss should be reserved for the truly unholy and unrepentant. It needn't be used in such large quantities unless it is deemed a sinners only path is that of an Angel." His voice sounded even and patient, but if she had not heard it before she would have missed the menace lurking beneath its surface. 

"You know best, Father." Faith sounded apprehensive, but Joseph's tone left no room for questioning. 

Grace was walking surer now, confident that she could walk past them and move on to the next marker, when she risked another glance up as she neared. Faith had her back to her and Joseph was standing across from her, but his eyes strayed from Faith's briefly only to immediately lock onto hers. Her steps almost faltered in her panic, seeing the instant recognition in his eyes. He watched silently, passively, as she walked by. Like he was afraid moving would make her vanish. The next few seconds felt like hours as she kept on the path towards the next marker. Forget that she hadn't even gotten a chance to read this one. Would he sound the alarm? Have her apprehended? Would he try and talk to her out here in the open? 

She shouldn't keep walking the path now, hell the next stone was close to Faith's Gate. Warning bells in her head were telling her to call it off for the day, so when she looked around and made sure no Joseph or armed guards were to be seen, she escaped off into the woods. This had been risky from the start, overconfident and impulsive. Whitehorse had told her, Armstrong had warned her, but she kept feeling a relentless pull. A need to understand more of the other side of this story, a part of her had wanted to see a more human side of these people. It was a slap in the face to the Resistance, she should have killed everyone there. Guns blazing, had Sharky on standby somewhere. What had she been thinking? 

Skirting around fallen branches and tree trunks, Grace was considering just calling for Adelaide to come sweep her off, but before she could reach for her radio she heard the crunch of leaves behind her. Not reacting fast enough, she nearly fell over as she was caught in mid-run and spun around, barely having time to register Joseph's face before he pushed her back against a tree and pressed his lips to hers. 

Stunned, her eyes remained open for the first few moments before closing and leaning into it. She took in the feel of his warm chest pressed to hers, his soft lips, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. Grace felt like she had no control over her own hands as they came up and held onto his shoulders, beginning to kiss back tentatively. She would have thought this to be another trick of the bliss, but there was no green haze or fairy lights. It was a tender kiss, the kind someone got when they had been away for a long time and then returned. He released her lips when they both needed air, not retreating too far, lingering less than an inch away.

"You walk my Path?" He asked breathlessly. 

"I am _curious_ of your path." She corrected quietly. His hands still cupped her cheeks, he was looking down her with a look akin to wonder. She took note of the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath. Had he run after her? Had others _seen_ him run after her? Probably not, if it was a full on pursuit they would have followed after him with guns raised. 

His eyes trailed down, taking in the cult clothes she had worn as a disguise. He inhaled deeply, and a warm feeling coiled in her gut as his eyes dilated, raking her in. The look in his eyes was completely different from the first night they met in the cabin, there was nothing innocent about it. Joseph closed his eyes, seeming to calm himself down. Like seeing her dressed like one of his followers made him _need_ to compose himself. 

Her hands, which hadn't stopped gripping his shoulders, finally let go. They slid down to his chest, resting flat on his pectorals. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the scarred skin beneath her fingertips. He felt so warm, she could feel his heartbeat against her palm. He was dangerous. This was dangerous. She hadn't come here to kiss Joseph Seed, she had come here to spy on his territory. But the moment he caught her and kissed her nothing about it had felt unwelcome or scary. His hands fell from her face and he stood before her, unmoving, opening his eyes to look down at her. They were so close their chests touched each time they breathed in. 

"You did not come back." The only way he could have known that would have been to return everyday to check. 

"I told you I wouldn't." 

"There was no word after you contacted me--you were too muddled to speak properly with me." He hissed. The next thoughts in her mind were not about whether or not this was right or wrong, but how in the world he could feel so strongly about her when they had been enemies weeks ago. Of course, Joseph Seed felt strongly about everything, but where did that leave her? She couldn't rightly say herself why a connection with him was so strong and easy. Grace dropped her own hands and met his intense look with one of her own.

"You know who I am. You know I won't be waiting for you everyday in a cabin, ignoring the people who need me." She explained decisively, " _My_ people need protection from _your_ people."

He looked contemplative as he stood before her, and she somehow knew he understood. They were both fighting for what they thought was right. Opposite but the same, each believing without a doubt that they were right. Joseph reached up and gently slid the beanie off of her head, letting it drop to the forest floor. Mostly her hair had stayed in its plait, but many strands had slipped out or become mussed underneath her hat. His fingers brushed those hairs back and traced her cheeks, making her mouth part in awe at the feel of such affection she had not received in a long time. 

Slower this time, with his thumb and forefinger grasping her chin, he tilted her head up and leaned forward pressed his lips to her again. His kisses were not controlling or aggressive, all coaxing and equal give and take. His breath smelled like mint leaves and his beard tickled, he asked and she gave, feeling like she could starve herself of air for another minute if their lips could keep melding together so sweetly. 

Eventually he pulled away, Grace surprising herself with the disappointment his absence left. He stepped back from her this time, and after a moment she realized she could hear voices in the far distance calling for him. So he must have slipped away after her when she'd gone. They kept their eyes on each other as they moved back slowly away from each other - both returning to where they belonged. 

"Remember-" He started.

"I know." She finished. They had their own frequency. He would be there. 

When they parted and lost sight of each other, Grace found her legs trembling as the rush of adrenaline ran through her. The realization hit her that the last few minutes had _actually_ happened. In her mind she could still picture him, lips reddened, cheeks flushed, trying to calm himself down. Her fingers came up and traced her lips, still able to recall the feeling his own upon them. 

Holy shit. What was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I making these chapters too long? I never plan them to be this lengthy and then I can never stop my hands from writing more lol.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: bakabeccaa


	8. Backfire

Grace came to the conclusion that walking the Path had been done out of morbid curiosity and stupidity, not an actual necessity for recon. Thus any plans to finish off the second half of the pilgrimage had been scrapped. Faith and Burke had told her to walk the Path and she had just waltzed along to what they said, like a true idiot. She spent the hours afterwards berating herself, if she hadn't been so curious then she wouldn't have ended up in the woods kissing Joseph _goddamn_ Seed. Now every time there was a moment to think she found herself distracted by thoughts of their shared moment in the woods. Half of her wanted to smack herself, but the other half wanted to relive it over and over. He had been so warm, seemed so human, and she hated the fact that he had looked so proud of her and she had felt _happy_ about it. 

In an attempt to distract herself from her traitorous thoughts, her immediate course of action was to go back to where she had stashed the unconscious peggie and take off her cult wear, hastily pulling on her regular clothes and grabbing her pack before spending the rest of the day at the jail coming up with a plan of attack. Tracey helped her pick the quickest route to and from the statue, also going over the equipment she would need to blow up the damn thing. She decided tomorrow to head straight for Sharky's, Hope County's resident demolition expert. She slept in the cot area that night, along with other Resistance members, keeping her radio tuned to the jails frequency. Too much of a coward to risk contacting Joseph. 

\-----

That next afternoon she radioed Sharky on her way just to make sure he was home. 

"Sharky, you there? This is Rook." 

"Aw shit I know your voice, Dep! What's hangin'?" 

He always sounded so happy, hopefully it was as infectious as it always was. 

"You home? Wanna blow the shit out of a big ass statue?" 

"Hell yeah, man, what kind of question is that? Just let me finish clippin' my toenails an-" 

Too much info. "I am on my way, Sharky. Stay put I'll see you in a bit." 

"Roger that!" 

A half hour later she had trekked back to the trailer park, managing to skirt the pilgrimage road that she now knew went around it. The Moonflower Trailer Park looked exactly like it had when she had first seen it. Whether all of the trailers had been abandoned or if there hadn't been that many people living here she didn't know, but Sharky had arranged all of them in a circle to make an arena of sorts. It was possible to walk across the roofs of each trailer by laid out boards and ladders. In the center was a playground, and he had loudspeakers hooked up to posts so he could blast disco music. Honestly it was a cool space Sharky had made for himself here, and perfect for luring in and killing Angels. One of Sharky's favorite pastimes. 

Grace walked up to the trailer she knew to be his and rapped twice on the door, opting to wait outside. There was no way in hell she was going to step foot in there, she had heard him talk about his piss bottle collection and she had no desire to see it. She smiled as she heard him scrambling to get ready, the sound of things being knocked over and drawers being flung open and closed telling her that he hadn't been expecting to go out on the road today. Eventually he exited the trailer in his usual green hoodie and jeans, he grinned widely when he saw her and picked her up in a crushing hug. 

"There ya are, my fuck-shit-up buddy! Where you been, Dep?" He set her down and she laughed, relieved his attitude was catching. 

"Up near Peaches' Taxidermy mostly. Got most of the northern region laid out." 

"Sweet, man. Y'know I was thinkin', as soon as Faith is taken care of an not churnin' out Angels left and right we could hold one last disco extravaganza to kill the last of them zombie freaks." 

Sharky motioned her to follow him as he headed towards an old school bus she knew he hid most of his explosives in. 

"You sure you want her gone?" Grace teased as they walked, "I know you have a crush on her." 

"Yeah, not sure I can be there for the final showdown, I have to stay away from Faith. She has control over me. A few weeks ago I saw her at a gas station and handed her twenty bucks. No reason. I just wanted her to have it." 

She stifled her laughter because his tone was dead serious. Honestly she had nothing to respond with, not quite sure if that was Faith's doing or Sharky just being Sharky, probably the latter. The rest of her thoughts trailed off into how strange it would be to see one of the Seeds at a gas station casually filling their car up. It was just a reminder that things hadn't always been life or death here, it seemed. 

Grace waited outside the bus while Sharky hopped inside, returning a few seconds later holding a giant industrial container and placing it gently on the ground. It looked incredibly heavy but he carried it effortlessly, a testament to the muscles hidden beneath his baggy hoodie. He flipped the locks and lifted the lid, revealing a plethora of grenades, launcher ammo, and a healthy helping of proximity and remote explosives. Placed atop the mountain of ammo was a well-kept RAT4 rocket launcher. She whistled low at the haul in front of her, impressed. 

"Is it safe to keep all this in here together?" 

"Maybe. But hey even if this shit catches fire that's just another Tuesday night for me! I love a good blaze. The fire kind and the oregano kind." He winked and she nudged his side with a laugh. 

Grace emptied out her pack and started loading it with some launcher ammo, which took up most of the space available so she was only able to fit in one or two medkits, just in case, and some ammo for her pistol. She made sure her pistol loaded in her holster and tested the weight of the rocket launcher in her hands. It was heavy duty, the real deal, and just what they needed to bring that statue down. Sharky must have seen the look on her face as she took it in. 

"It's a beautiful thing. Gets me thick in the pants just thinkin' about blowin' shit to smithereens." Grace shot him a flat look and shook her head. Sharky just shrugged, unashamed as always, and strapped his usual shotgun across his back. Packing his signature homemade flamethrower in his hands, within the hour they were making their way towards the statue. Grace made an effort to skirt by any patrols or Path walkers as they neared, much to Sharky's dismay. 

"Not that I mind the ninja approach, but we could just kill the crap outta those peggies over there." He'd whisper. She shook her head back at him and continued up the summit going from cover to cover. These were some of the same people going about their business as yesterday, no need to shoot unless necessary. Maybe a month or two ago, when she had been of a different mindset. They reached the plateau of Angel's peak and hid behind some large white trellis that framed the entrance to the foot of the statue. 

"Okay, you should sneak around further up, I am gonna creep in and shoot the first rocket. Then everyone will know we are here, so it's just a matter of keeping them off me long enough to keep rocketing the shit out of that thing." She whispered, loading up the launcher with the first round. Sharky's eyes gleamed mischievously back at hers, game for anything. "Whitehorse told me the statue is hollow, the cult's been using it to store weapons. Once it comes down I am gonna climb up it and see what they got, so cover me from down here." 

"You got it, Po Po. I'll charge in after you fire the first round. Burn, baby, burn!" He pumped his fist, psyching himself up and crept past her to get into position. Grace stay hidden for a minute or two, giving him ample time to get into place, and bracing herself for the fire fight to come. They would defend this place with their lives, they would die here today. Maybe even some of the same people she had smiled at yesterday while in disguise. Her stomach felt like a rock in her abdomen and she closed her eyes. _'Destroy this damn statue. Kill anyone who tries to kill you. Do it for the Resistance. Do it for Sharky and Tracey and everyone else Faith Seed fucked with.'_

Keeping low, she emerged from cover and went up to the statue. The base of it was lined with bliss flowers and crates of ammo. Convenient, if she ran out of her own she could just borrow the cult's. There wasn't anyone in immediate sight, but as she crept around more she spotted several peggies sitting together, looking to be hanging out having a good time. She didn't linger on them, backing up to where they couldn't see her and kneeling on the ground behind one of the large stone fire pits. The amount of time and money it must have taken to build this place was mind numbing. It took her a moment to set the launcher on her shoulder and aim it, deciding to start at the bottom and work her way to the top. Holding her breath, she steadied the launcher and fired. The recoil made her wobble back but she quickly started reloading the next round in. 

The bottom of the statue exploded on impact, creating a loud, booming sound that probably echoed for miles. Pieces of the statue crumbled and rained down on the area below. Grace cursed and backed up out of the way, not wanting to be crushed beneath the falling stone. In the distance she could hear the whoosh of Sharky's flamethrower coming to life and cultists starting to yell and alert reinforcements. She could probably fire off one more before the peggies found her position. When she was sure most of the big debris had finished falling she went forward and lined up the sights again, aiming towards the center just under the arms - firing again. She was more prepared for the recoil this time and set the launcher down after. 

"Get those sinners!"

"There's one over here!" 

Peggies were running in her direction, guns aimed and at the ready. By the time they had zeroed in on her she had her pistol out as she ducked for cover behind the fire pit once more. She waited for them to start firing first before leaning out of cover and shooting back. Her focus was on clearing out the peggies swarming closer, most shooting at her with assault rifles, others running towards her with a bat. She took out the latter first since they wouldn't stay at a distance like the gunners would, and while her and Sharky fought them off the radio at her hip came to life. 

"Rook, you there? It's Tracey. I got a report some crazy fucker is hitting that ugly ass statue. That's gotta be you." Grace ducked down and reloaded her pistol, snorting to herself. Yeah, she must be damned crazy. She could hear Sharky on the other side of the statue, working his way towards her with every round fired and grenade he threw. The explosions made the ground beneath her feet vibrate. Tracey continued, "I like the way you think. Now watch your back, more peggies are coming your way." 

She ran from her current cover when they were reloading to move up behind one of the Eden's Gate flags. Making sure she had enough pistol ammo, she broke cover again and shot at two more peggies. Watching the holes appear in their chests and their bodies fall to the ground, a familiar hollow feeling seeped into her chest. Before she had to take out anymore Sharky came around the corner and shot a third peggie from behind with his shotgun. They cried out and fell forward, a pool of blood immediately forming. 

Grace only froze for a moment before holstering her gun and running back to the launcher, reloading it. _'Get the job done, half of the statue left, then get the hell out of here.'_ Sharky provided cover fire from the cultists inside the statue while she aimed the next shot. Tracey was right, ground reinforcements would be here soon so she had to get in the shot while she could. It would be no use to only destroy half of the damn thing. Aiming took less time now that she was used to it, and she directed the next rocket towards Joseph's chest and book. It struck true and the inner middle of the statue was revealed, along with more pissed off peggies wondering what the heck was happening to the statue they were in. The arm holding the Book of Joseph fell in a mostly whole chunk, Sharky snagged her by the back of her shirt and pulled her behind a crate for cover as it hit the ground and shattered. 

Things were so loud between the gunfire, grenades, the falling debris and rocket fire - her ears were now ringing. She stayed on the ground reloading while Sharky kept peggies from getting close. She thought she might be losing it slightly, she could faintly hear the song _Help Me Faith_ playing at less than half speed, though it sounded far away, almost like when she was blissed out. But there had been no music minutes ago, with all the commotion she must have been imagining it. 

"Protect the statue!" A peggie with a lead pipe yelled, too stupid to realize Sharky's flamethrower was something one shouldn't run towards. He set down his shotgun and unleashed his flamethrower as the man came close. Her hands stalled in reloading as she heard his screams grow more shrill as he burned alive. She closed her eyes and held the launcher tightly in her hands until Sharky nudged her with his foot. 

"Earth to Dep! We gotta fire off that next round!" He called to her over the commotion. 

"Should only take two more!" She yelled to Sharky. No need to keep quiet, the whole peak knew where they were. One rocket would finish off the head, and she needed another to destroy the outstretched arm. She retreated to a dark place inside herself as the scent of burning skin reached her nose, the flaming cultist having fallen to the ground a few feet in front of them, he was still smoldering on the ground. Pulling herself together and aiming once more she managed to blow up the head, moving with Sharky out of the way of falling stone once more, and firing off the final rocket at the arm while he covered her a minute later. 

She set the heavy launcher down near Sharky, standing up out of cover to look around. Dead bodies lay everywhere, there were no alive forces on the ground, just some in the statue running around trying to figure out what to do. She would have to climb up there now, Tracey had told her the night before that Faith kept her personal copy of the Book of Joseph at the top. It would be a real win for the Resistance to destroy that. 

"Wooowee! Now that's some proper destruction! We gave it to those peggies! Unh!" He grunted as he pelvic thrust towards the destroyed statue and fired off some flames in celebration. 

His voice sounded distant, the _Help Me Faith_ music that rang in her ears. She walked forward, needing to circle around the base to the entrance doors leading inside. Still mentally shut away, Grace looked numbly at the bullet ridden bodies. Blood covered the ground, blank eyes stared up at the sky, some were charred and black, others blown apart by grenades. Some cultists were even crushed underneath fallen bits of statue. So much death. By the time she had reached the doors she had left a trail of bloody boot prints in her wake. Grace hummed the music in her ears to give her mind something to do besides think. 

_'Shield me from sadness,'_

Grace reached down, taking the assault rifle off of one of the dead bodies. She kept it raised as she made her way up the stairs to the first landing. Barely registering the feeling of the gun in her hands jolting forward with every round she fired, she kept humming to herself so no screams of pain reached her ringing ears - shooting anyone who tried to stop her. By the time she had reached the top landing she had blood splatter on her face and arms, as well as seeping into her jeans and shirt. She swayed slightly as she realized just how high up she was, the winds whipped her hair around and made her shiver as it dried the blood on her skin. 

_'From worry and madness,'_

Quickly spotting Faith's book, Grace restarted the song over to herself. When she went to step forward the sound of chopper blades had her backing up, instead. She brought up an arm and shielded her eyes from the gust that the attack chopper kicked up. On top of the wind itself it was impossible for her eyes not to water, so she crouched low in hopes she wouldn't be as easy a target until she could see again. Before she could start to panic about her predicament a high pitched sound followed by the telltale explosion from a rocket launcher sent her flat on the ground covering her head. The heat from the flames washed over her before the destroyed chopper fell out of the sky to the ground. 

"You see that, Dep? I got your back! A day with you is never dull!" Sharky radioed from below, sounding proud. If she could feel anything at all right now she would feel proud of him, too. He saved her reckless ass so many times. She stayed down on the ground for a moment, wiping the wind induced wetness from her eyes. If she kept humming she wouldn't think about how she knew what their dead, charred bodies would smell like. Lifting herself up off the ground she went to the Book of Joseph, looking unperturbed on it's stone altar. She picked it up, feeling the smooth leather, the familiar weight of it in her hands. She should destroy it. 

_'Lead me to the place.'_

The Eden's Gate cross looked mockingly up at her, daring her to burn it. She should toss it off the destroyed statue and let it sink into the Henbane, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped it. She pressed it to her forehead and closed her eyes tightly until she hummed through the last of the song. Until the ringing in her ears died down and her heartbeat slowed. Then, without looking at it again, she slid off her pack and tucked it away inside. Grasping her radio she looked around and spotted a zip line. 

"I destroyed Faith's book. We're all done here, Sharky." She said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. She could hear him cheering in victory below her. Grace made to grasp the zip line, but before she let go she looked out at the expanse of Montana in front of her. The sun shone clearly, the sky was blue and the clouds moved along. It was so beautiful here, the mountains and trees awaited her on the horizon. It was a jarring calm after everything that had just happened. Tearing her eyes away she looked down at her shoes. What in the world had happened to her that she cared about defending herself from people shooting at her? What would Sharky or Armstrong say if they knew she was feeling this way? She wanted nothing more than reassurance she was doing the right thing, but as much as she tried to convince herself, it didn't feel as comforting as it should. And she had wanted to kiss Joseph. They would think she was a traitor. 

And if she didn't belong with the Resistance, and she didn't want to join the cult, then where did that leave her? 

_"What have you done? Don't you understand what he'll do to me?"_

Grace whipped around to look for Faith, seeing nothing but the bodies that lay in her wake. She had never heard Faith sound scared before, but there it was in her voice. Grace looked over and saw scattered bliss flowers, snarling at them and snatching them off of a crate, setting those on fire instead and tossing them off the side of the statue. 

_'Out of my damn head.'_ She thought, feeling angry at everything as she latched onto the zip line and headed down to Sharky.

\-----

That night the 8 Bit Bar was alive and loud. Hurk had set up a disco ball in near the karaoke stand and Sharky was in charge of the jukebox. They had all toasted to their victory, eating wings and pizza to celebrate. Which wasn't something to be taken lightly, there were only so many left before they ran out. No shipments could come in if the tunnels to the city were destroyed. She was sitting at a table in the corner working her way through her second beer with Armstrong keeping her company. 

"You did good, Rook." 

"Thanks." She didn't feel like she did a good thing. Grace looked over at Nick and Adelaide, who were sitting at the bar shooting the shit about planes. Tracey was there too, trying to look interested in their conversation. Sharky was trying his best not to dance too enthusiastically to Donna Summers, still trying to keep his love of disco on the down low. It all felt so distant from her, like she was watching from a window instead of in the same room with everyone. At least she had been able to shower off all of the dirt and blood, her skin and hair had smelled like smoke. 

"Hey. Feelin' okay?" 

Grace tried to put on her best reassuring face and nodded, "I'm good, just tired. Long day." 

"Today was great for the Resistance. You took down that statue and killed a bunch of peggie assholes to boot. I would have given anything to see the looks on their faces. I'd say you can let yourself relax for a night." Armstrong tipped her ball cap to her and stood up, going to the bar to say hello to Tracey. For awhile she kept to her seat, feeling like keeping herself level was taking up most of her energy and leaving her with none left over to socialize with. But she didn't want to not be here with her friends. They had already talking about gaining ground and which outposts to send her to next, which made her stomach churn. She shouldn't really be drinking, she hated beer anyways. 

Grace stood up and started walking towards the back to go to the bathroom. 

"Grace." 

She jumped and looked down at the radio at her waist, unclipping it and hurrying towards the back of the building before anyone noticed her sudden rush. Thank goodness his voice wasn't easily heard over the jukebox. 

"Grace, are you there?"

When she reached the bathroom she locked the door and ran a hand through her hair. 

"Joseph. Any louder and my friends would have heard you." 

"That is fine. You should not be ashamed to talk to me."

"It would not look good at all. You should be mindful of when you radio me." It was a stupid request, there was no way he could possibly know when she was with people, but after the day she had she felt like she was owed something. Anything. 

"Then why were you on this frequency?"

Grace fumed silently, tapping her foot against the linoleum flooring. 

"...You were waiting." 

"Shut up." 

"There is no need for Pride, Grace." 

"I'm not _Pride_ , I'm _Wrath_." She countered bitterly, pulling down her shirt collar to examine the tattoo under her collarbone in the mirror over the sink. It had hurt at first, especially at the top closest to her collar bone. But as she stared up at the ceiling of Fall's End church, she had counted the number of boards that made up the roof. Focusing on that, she had gripped John's shoulder and the pain had faded into a dull buzz registering in the back of her mind. 

"Yes, you are. I am not angry, just disappointed. My flock spent a long time building that statue." 

"I thought you didn't see yourself as larger than life. It must have been an expensive undertaking." She sounded so bitter, but she couldn't reach inside herself and try to be positive in any light. 

"It was an 'undertaking' of my faithful. I did not ask for it. They may worship how they wish, as long as they remain pure for Eden." 

Grace trembled as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her collar remained askew, baring John's mark to the empty bathroom. Her hair was wavy and fine, her pale skin had tanned and she had managed to keep from being too gangly despite the irregularity of meals available. But that wasn't what got to her about her reflection. It was the darkness beneath her eyes, the lips that wouldn't lift into a smile, and the empty look in her eyes that had creeped up on her over time. She did not look like someone who got to go to Eden. 

"I don't belong in Eden." She whispered. 

"I understand. You are scared. But you will see that the Path to Eden is open if you are willing to open yourself in turn." 

Even after everything he was still confident in salvation. 

"I killed so many, Joe." The end of the sentence was barely audible as her throat tightened up, fighting back the urge to break down as the party continued in the bar. She hoped if anyone had to use the bathroom they would knock first. She couldn't hear much over the music, save for Joseph's voice right in her ear on the radio. 

"Come to me. Tell me. I will save you, Grace." He sounded so sure. Grace thought of his lips and the feeling of his hands cupping her cheeks. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth until she brought herself back from the precipice, and when she looked back into the mirror her eyes had hardened. 

"That's a sweet thought. I wish it were true." 

"Repent, then, and turn to God-" 

"I really can't. I just can't." Grace cut him off, his soothing voice too gentle on her frayed emotions, like stroking nerves that were too sensitive for touch. She turned off her radio completely and headed back out to join everyone. Taking a seat at the bar next to Tracey and Armstrong, the latter of the two looking at her strangely, she ordered a soda. 

The rest of the party had her friends laughing and celebrating, but if you asked her how her night had gone, she could not have recalled much.


	9. Unravel

With the liberation of the Henbane within reach, Whitehorse and the others at the jailhouse had no shortage of things they needed done, keeping Grace busy. She had managed to destroy all shrines in the Henbane and ensure there were no more bliss transports circulating. That took a good few days, and now they had given her a list of the outposts left to be liberated. Grace felt like she was going through the motions of her day to day, simply putting one foot in front of the other. If she was not able to forgive herself, or feel like any higher power would forgive her, then why care about herself at all? She was never the religious sort, she liked to believe there was a higher power but always remained humble about whatever that power might be - she had peace with the fact that she might never find out. But the more she wanted redemption, the more worried she became about the powers that would judge her. Hopefully whoever or whatever it was, they were merciful. 

During the day she was too busy running around killing his people to start up conversation with Joseph, and honestly she didn't know what she would say. But because she avoided him during the day, at night he would tune to their frequency and speak to her. He would ask her to come to him, ask her to confess and join Eden's Gate, promising salvation and forgiveness. If she was camping out by herself she would listen to his voice until she fell asleep, never responding. If she was sleeping in the jailhouse she couldn't risk people hearing, so she kept her radio off. Those nights she found it tougher to fall asleep. But whether she stayed on the channel to listen or not, he would make time each night to try and talk to her. For once she was grateful for his patience and tenacity, she just didn't know what the point was in joining him if she agreed with his beliefs but not his methods. She would even pull out Faith's copy of his book and reread it, thinking maybe there was some miracle answer between the lines. But there was no way she would abandon her friends. It was as simple as that. 

Her map of the Henbane had been filled in by now, the past few days usually spent searching out prepper stashes in the morning (those seemed to require barely any killing) and the afternoons spent blowing up shrines (only a little killing). Now that the shrines were out of the way the only thing she had left to do was reclaim the Jessop Conservatory, Nolan's Fly Shop and Lorna's Truck Stop. Virgil had specifically asked her to start with the Jessop Conservatory, having told her that it used to belong to Faith's family. This was only the second time she'd heard anything about who Faith used to be, and apparently her name had been Rachel Jessop. When she joined the cult she had handed it over to Eden's Gate, but there was no information on what had happened to her parents. 

There was a man named Feeney who operated there who Faith had put in charge of manufacturing a more potent bliss - so Virgil asked her to burn the bliss flowers there and eliminate Feeney. He didn't seem to feel bad about asking her to take a life, no one did. Everyone expected it to be easy - and for the first few months upon her arrival it had been. She should never have taken that time to herself in McCoy's Cabin, it had given her time to exit survival mode and think about her actions. 

She knew he wanted her to go to the conservatory first but she would rather save that outpost for last. Still understandably not keen on getting close to the bliss again, let alone a lab of it. The experience itself wasn't the worst, it wasn't called bliss for nothing, but the recovery from it was awful. So she packed up her things and headed to Lorna's Truck Stop first thing in the morning, dutifully ignoring the hallucinations of Faith Seed she saw sporadically on her way. After the statue had fallen Faith ramped up the defenses in the Henbane, which included more patrols and bliss being poured into the rivers and pumped into the air. In a majority of the region one could get a bliss high just from being outside for awhile. 

It had slowed down the Resistance's activity and officially made this her least favorite place to be. She'd rather go back to Holland Valley and deal with John's forces, at least they didn't use _drugs_. So every now and again, her ears would ring and she would see Faith humming and twirling in a cloud of bliss, taunting her always.

_"You must be dizzy. So many roads to choose. What to believe? Who to help first? When to trust?"_

Grace took hold of her AR-C and shot Faith's figure without ever breaking stride, causing it to dissipate. It had become a common occurrence, to the point where she had told everyone to keep an eye out for anything like surgical masks to cover people's mouths and noses. If any prepper had been worried about chemical warfare they may have some in their bunkers. With a sigh she pointed her gun in the new direction she heard Faith's singing coming from. 

_"When you find the path, you'll see clearly. Come with me and I'll show you the Path."_

A quick pull of the trigger and Faith was gone again. She thought she had heard Joseph telling her not to use this much bliss when she saw them along the Path. Maybe drugging people up was the only way Faith knew how to handle people, maybe having power over people made her feel better about being powerless in her life before the cult. Coming up on Lorna's Truck Stop she found a vantage point nearby and took out her sniper rifle, attaching her silencer quickly. It wouldn't be too hard to keep it quiet, there were only two alarms, a dog, and what looked to be seven peggies. It was a small outpost, but the Resistance needed the gas station to fuel their cars. That all she was telling herself these days, that things needed to be done.

\-----

An hour later she had already radioed the jail to tell them the gas station was theirs to occupy and started to make her way east towards Nolan's Fly Shop. Intel told her that the basement there had been turned into a lab for bliss production and the land out back turned into a small bliss flower field. She had tons of experience burning bliss now, having also learned a thing or two about fire from being friends with Sharky. Thus she was able to pack all of the ingredients necessary to craft herself some molotovs and other explosives. When she got there it was the same old song and dance. Take out the alarms, shoot every cultist she saw. Grace always tried to keep it long distance, usually opting for close takedowns when there was a heavily armored peggie around. By the time she had cleared the small place out, she was about to head down into the basement when she heard the moans and groans of Angels. 

There were too many to bother with individually, so she took cover in the stairwell leading down to the basement and lobbed a grenade into the lab. It bounced off a wall and further into the basement, and the entire shop shuddered when it exploded. When the smoke settled she made sure each Angel was dead before making sure she no peggies had come running after hearing the noise. Once the place was secure she went out back and started putting together the molotovs. It looked like she would only need around four to get the job done. Once the Resistance got here to occupy the place she could just buy some more - she would need to restock for the conservatory. She bunched up a Nolan's Fly Shop t-shirt she'd found in the store and used one hand to hold it over her nose and mouth, while the other began individually throwing the four molotovs into the field. 

When every inch of the bliss field was charred black and smoking, she radioed Whitehorse again, telling him to let Virgil know she was going to take care of the conservatory soon and to send reinforcements to hold Nolan's. The sun was starting to set after a long day of more killing, and as she neared the conservatory she felt her steps get heavier. She could take over this outpost tonight, but if Feeney tried to escape she might need backup. Plus, she really didn't feel like shooting anymore today. Grace opted for staying a good enough distance away that a campfire wouldn't be noticed, and set up camp for the night. A small fire, a roll out sleeping bag and extra blanket in case the night got cold. 

Grace sat in front of the fire on top of the sleeping bag, not bothering to change out of her day clothes. She had been staring into the flames for awhile as the sky grew darker and darker, occasionally adding more tinder to the fire if it started to die down. Faith's copy of The Book of Joseph lay atop her pack, along with her radio. Trying her utmost to focus on the warmth on her skin and the cool air in her lungs, she looked up and saw Faith sitting on the other side of the fire. Green bliss surrounding it as always, Grace gritted her teeth and glared at the hallucination. 

_"Are you sure you want to do this?"_

"What kind of question is that?" She snapped at the siren in front of her. 

_"Those flowers bring hope. You bring destruction."_

Before she could continue with what Grace knew assuredly to be bullshit, she slid a throwing knife from her belt and flung it through Faith's image, watching it pass through the illusion and cause it to fade away in front of her. In the end it was still just her alone sitting in front of a fire by herself. The knife had sunk into the trunk of a tree, and firelight gleamed off of it's metal as if mocking her for not being able to escape Faith. Intent on leaving the damned thing stuck in the tree, Grace was sliding into her sleeping bag when her radio sounded next to her. 

"Grace. Are you there?" 

Joseph. He always seemed to radio when she was getting ready to sleep. She sighed and looked at it for a bit, eventually grasping it and settling down into her sleeping bag with it. He always asked after her a few times before trying to convince her to come to him. She lay in her sleeping bag, wishing she had the courage to answer him. 

"Grace, please." His tone sounded genuine. She didn't doubt how much he wanted to hear from her. Her fingers twitched towards the return button. 

"I feel you are at a precipice, Grace." She froze, barely breathing as she held the radio to her chest and stared at the flames of her campfire. In her mind she saw him, sitting alone in a barren room, looking out a window as he spoke into his radio. The walls were white, there was only the chair he was sitting in and a simple bed against the wall. And she knew, she _knew_ he was thumbing his rosary as he spoke to her. 

"And I want you to know it is never too late. I will forgive you. I will help you forgive yourself." 

A hot tear escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek. Maybe when they kissed she had unknowingly given him a part of herself that let him know her. Maybe she had gotten a part of him, too, and that's why she could picture him so clearly. She wished he would come running through the trees like last time and take her by surprise. When she came out of her thoughts she felt more wetness on her cheeks, shocked she hadn't even felt herself crying. It made her realize again how empty she had been feeling the last few weeks. 

If she failed people she had their blood on her hands, if she saved them her hands were bloody still. She couldn't escape the smell of blood, splattered on her face, absorbed into her clothing. There was no way to come clean after all she had done, with every outpost and every bullet a part of herself was being stripped away surely as John stripped away skin. There was nothing she could do, caught between a rock and a hard place. If only everything would just stop. If only people wouldn't hurt each other. Joseph started reading an excerpt from his book, and she let his voice lull her to sleep. 

\----- 

The Jessop Conservatory was a large outpost consisting of one big and two smaller greenhouses, a small house the Jessop's had lived in, and four bliss gardens. And if the size wasn't annoying enough, each one of the gardens was hooked up with it's own sprinkler system. There was also a main courtyard with at least a dozen men patrolling the grounds. This place would not be as simple as the last two. Grace had woken up and spent the first few hours of the day up in a damned tree, trying to establish the patrol routes of the many peggies stationed around the place. Two white Eden's Gate pickup trucks were parked nearby but they had been there when she woke up, so she knew no one had dropped by. There were two alarms, she would need to find a vantage point on either side of the main greenhouse to shoot both of them. 

Grace scoffed and dug her heels into the bark of the tree. This place was more heavily guarded than she had anticipated, it made Nolan's and Lorna's look like a cake walk. She lowered her binoculars and swung a leg over the branch she was perched on, beginning her descent to the ground. It was going to be loud and messy if she tried starting with the outside peggies, luckily she had spotted a zip line leading to the small house off the side of the main conservatory. There were probably cultists inside as well, but the quietest way to handle this was to start from the inside and work her way out. She ended up needing to climb a different tree, one that thankfully had a ladder leading up it, and crouched on the wooden platform it led to. Keeping an eye on the snipers positioned nearby, she waited for an opening and zip lined straight over the yard and into the second story window of the house. 

Grace landed quietly and put her grapple hook away, the room she landed in was a bathroom laden with only the bare essentials. She pressed her ear to the door and listened for any movement on the other side. If this was going to be a silent murder spree she would need to navigate this house without knowing the layout. There were footsteps downstairs and the murmuring of voices talking, but Grace was too paranoid to waltz out of her hiding place yet. 

Sure enough a few minutes later she heard steps heading up the stairs, the peggie adjusting their gun as they patrolled past the bathroom let her know the people in the house were armed as well. What was the deal with this place? When their footsteps had faded she took a risk and cracked open the door enough to peek her head out. It was only a matter of time before someone had to use the bathroom, so she needed to switch rooms and get a better idea of the second floor layout. The peggie that had patrolled up the stairs was still heading down the other end of the hallway, so Grace stepped out fully. 

The upstairs hall had several doors, so she picked one at random. Backing up two doors down - she peeked into the first one and it was nothing but a laundry room - she listened briefly at the door while keeping an eye on the other end of the hall, not hearing anything on the other side. Impatiently she turned the knob, noticing the patrol start to turn around to head back her way. Quickly, she let herself into the room and froze when she stepped inside, with her hand still holding onto the doorknob. 

It was the room she had imagined last night, or at least _thought_ she had imagined. There were the same white walls, simple bed and wooden chair by a window. There was a copy of the Book of Joseph and men's shoes on the floor by the bed. Before everything mind could click into place a hand grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her fully into the room, closing the door behind her. She grunted as she fought to wrench her arm from the person's grasp, but they turned her towards them and pressed her up against the wall by the door. Grace's mouth dropped open as she halted the punch she had geared up to strike her captor, finding herself staring up at Joseph Seed instead of some random peggie.

He raised a finger to his lips to signal her to stay quiet. The patrol came back down the hall and passed by the door with no fuss. 

They really had to stop meeting like this.


	10. Relief

The two of them peered at each other as they silently waited for the peggie to pass. Grace was trying not to smirk too widely, because _of course_ they had suddenly collided again. It would have been a strange week if they hadn't managed to fall head first into one another. Joseph was looking...well, intense like always. Once the patrol's steps headed back downstairs Joseph stepped back and went towards the bed to put his shoes on. Did nothing ever faze this man? As she stood there it dawned on her that she could ask the same about herself. This certainly didn't startle her as much as it would have pre-cabin days. She felt a lot of things while she looked around the colorless room: shock, disbelief, happiness, dread… The emotion that stuck out most was _relief_. She felt a sudden tingling in her limbs, a light-headedness that made her breaths come faster. Maybe he would kidnap her now. He had the numbers. 

"Grace."

There were so many of his men around, all it would take it was one word. He had his radio on him, if he let the guards know then it would force her hand and she wouldn't have to kill anyone here. She would have no choice. No blood on her hands today. But then the Resistance members would come for her, they would shoot everyone here to get her back. No escaping bloodshed. Nowhere to go to escape the necessity of it. It was a damning thought to just to imagine abandoning her friends, so she was a terrible person anyways. 

"Look at me."

Joseph placed his hands on her shoulders, searching her eyes for whatever she must have been visibly losing her nerve over. She did as he asked, allowing herself the peace of looking into his baby blues, his aviators pushed up atop his head. Without hesitation she lifted a hand to cup his cheek, running her thumb across it lazily. If she didn't live by the second she would just panic all over again. Grace let his presence become her focus, eventually losing interest in the thoughts she had before. By the time he spoke again his eyes had let go of their worry and he had leaned into her hand. 

"I have waited for you. God has sent you to me again." 

She didn't put too much weight onto the last part of that sentence. 

"Waited for me here? How could you know I'd come?" 

"You think I do not keep track of the properties taken from Faith? From John? This is the only place you had yet to claim."

Grace fidgeted under his gaze. She had a feeling suspiciously close to guilt, which a distant voice in her head told her was a ridiculous thing to feel for a murderous cult. But maybe only a murderous Resistance member could be crazy enough to sympathize. 

"You were quite busy yesterday. Two of our outposts in one day." 

"How-- oh." The jailhouse frequency wasn't exactly a secret. Of course he still listened in. She bit the inside of her mouth, choosing to focus her sight away from his face and onto the swallows tattooed on his chest. They were the only ink on him that had been colored in. "I am living up to my sin, it seems." 

"God places you in my path for a reason, Grace." 

"Yeah, well, God seems to love you and not give a shit about me." She spat, bitterness too overwhelming to push back. 

He stilled in front of her, lips pulling down into a frown. She hated the sadness, the empathy she found in his eyes - at the sight of it she'd stiffened as he moved towards her. Joseph wrapped his arms around her with one hand cradling the back of her head and the other on her back, resting his chin atop her head as he brought her close. Her whole life she had wanted to be a strong protector, someone who helped others. But all that ambition had gotten her to this moment, in a room with Joseph Seed being her only tether to sanity. Her badge felt heavy in her pocket. 

"God has not abandoned you, Grace. You are not an unholy apostate, not a depraved soul."

She closed her eyes and let him hold her, willing her muscles to relax and exit survival mode. There, in his arms, she allowed herself a glimmer of hope. If anyone knew about forgiveness or being saved, it was someone as obsessed with it as the leader of Eden's Gate. 

"I will not abandon you, or any of my children." He continued, "We will reach Eden together." 

"I didn't respond, you kept calling anyways. But I listened." Grace whispered, letting the warmth of his chest against her cheek comfort her, the steady feeling of his heart beating in his chest as he ran a comforting hand up and down her back - it made her want to give in. She hadn't had this kind of affection in such a long time, she didn't care if that was the reason she was enjoying it or if it was her attraction to him. She just knew wanted to feel _happy_ for a little while. Before she had to go back out and be a soldier again. 

"I didn't hear from you for days, and then there you were. Along my Path, among my children. Like you always belonged there." He spoke reverently, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head. "So I kept calling." 

They stayed that way for awhile longer, but Joseph eventually pulled away and cupped her cheeks. He didn't need to prompt her for anything, she knew what he was silently asking for as he held her gaze. She would give it willingly. 

"The Resistance wants me to take this place. They want me to eliminate Feeney."

He didn't so much as blink. 

"And what do you want, Grace?" 

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not willing or able to look away from him but feeling that guilt from earlier creeping back, making her feel antsy. But this fragile bond they had built over the last few weeks wouldn't work without honesty. 

"I want to stop. I don't want to kill the people here. The more I fight, the…" She swallowed and took a moment to find strength to finish, "...the more I feel like drowning." Tears gathered in her eyes and she silently pleaded to him to feel what she felt. She tried to convey with a look how every bullet she shot seemed inevitable, always meant to be, and always meant to bring her down. He studied her closely before nodding just once, leaning his head down to press a kiss to her forehead. Grace could have loved him right then and there for understanding. For just listening, and making her feel heard. 

"Take this place, then. Feeney will not trouble anyone anymore." 

Grace opened her mouth, ready to negotiate with the stubborn man, but stopped to replay his words once more. 

"Wait, really? Why?" 

Joseph stepped back from her and went towards a single door near the bed that opened up to reveal a small closet. When he pulled out a collared white button up shirt she found herself truly disappointed as he began to put it on. 

"I arrived yesterday to handle Feeney. I have no desire to see bliss become more potent, it is already dangerous if not used carefully. I had words about it with Faith, but it seems she did not heed my wishes. I will need to speak again with her." 

"What happened to Feeney?" She asked, though her gut told her she already knew what 'handled' meant. 

"He was a sinner, he abused his power. I chose to baptize him again so that he may return to the light. He did not pass God's judgement." Unfazed by the information she had already guessed, that Feeney was gone, she watched his long fingers button up his shirt. He met her eyes, watching her stare at him as his tattoos and scars regrettably disappeared with every button. The shirt covered his _LUST_ scar, the Eden's Gate, the crown, and the colored swallow tattoos. Grace felt her mouth go dry when she realized she was probably dangerously close to getting her own lust inked on, attempting to clear her throat in what, hopefully, was a casual manner. 

"And you're just going to let the _Resistance_ have this place?" 

"I am going to let _you_ have this place. I would not make you a murderer, like these friends of yours have. I will take my flock and go. You will not need to take any lives. I just wished to see you." 

Grace, through her disbelief, felt her legs turn to jelly. She barely registered the pain of her knees hitting the wooden floorboards with a loud thud. The relief coursing through her making her near hysterical as she laughed, her throat too tight for her to actually make noise of it. Her head was telling her it was too good to be true, while her heart felt lighter than it had in days. No need for her to shoot anyone today. No blood to wash off of her clothes, no one yelling that they were going to kill her, no watching her bullets sink into someone's chest. Joseph knelt down in front of her and grasped her hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing them as she rocked gently on her knees. 

Her silent laughter subsided, leaving her feeling euphoric. The feeling was interrupted by a sudden knock on the bedroom door. 

"Father? Are you alright? We heard a sound from downstairs." 

Still holding her hands gently in his, he looked at her with understanding. Joseph did not look away from her, and did not hesitate to reply.

"I am fine. All is well. Tell the rest of my children we are leaving this place." 

"Leaving? But what about the Resis-" 

"I said we are leaving this place." He spoke a little louder, his tone letting the peggie know there would be no negotiating. Now it was Grace's turn to look at him reverently, he truly felt like her salvation for that day. She wouldn't have to fight today, she could radio Whitehorse and Virgil and let them know this last task had been taken care of. She had finished off the last outpost of the valley and by some miracle - no, not a miracle, Joseph - she would not need to lose another piece of herself to do it. 

Maybe, if Joseph was willing to meet her halfway with this… Maybe there was a better way to be going about this. He had just proven to her that they could resolve a situation without bloodshed. But there was already so much violent history, bad blood, wheels already in motion. Of course it wouldn't be so simple, but it would be stupid not to even give it a thought. When Joseph stood up she rose with him. He reached up and brought his aviators down over his eyes, making a soft smile appear on her lips. He returned a small smile back to her. 

"There it is." He traced her smile with a finger. Before anything else could happen she went up onto her tip toes and kissed his cheek tenderly, lingering for a moment before pulling back slowly. 

"Thank you, Joseph. _Thank you_."

Joseph led her to the bed and sat her down on it. "We will leave. Stay here. Give us a few minutes before you radio it in." His hand stayed on her arm for a bit as if hesitant to let her go, but eventually he pulled himself away and made for the door. 

"Remember-" She started. 

"I know." He finished, looking back at her approvingly before leaving and closing the door behind him. 

As she lay in the bed Joseph had the night before, she stared at the ceiling and listened to the sound of peggies packing their things up and leaving. From what she could hear they sounded confused about not leaving any forces to hold the place, but everyone had faith in the Father. It was that simple for them, she found herself envying their faith. Which was just another sin she could add to her ever growing list. When the last of the trucks had driven away she sighed into the quiet. She couldn't even imagine trying to talk to Armstrong or Sharky about talking with Joseph. They wouldn't believe her at all, they would think he was just manipulating her. And for all she knew he might be, but there was that feeling in her chest again. A feeling like she knew it was genuine. He had more than enough opportunities to take her, and he had always kept his word. 

How could she explain to her friends how sacred their truce had become? 

\----- 

About a half hour of basking in the feeling of not murdering anyone, her standards had sunk that low, she radioed the jailhouse and told Virgil that Feeney was taken care of and the outpost ready for reinforcements. She stayed in the room, staring at the Book of Joseph that her favorite cult leader had left behind until Resistance members began driving up and making themselves at home. She got up and headed towards the window, pushing the glass panels open so she could greet the arrivals. 

Armstrong appeared, hopping out of a pickup and starting to direct everyone to get the place set up. Grace called out to her and waved, Armstrong looked up at the second story window and hesitated a moment before waving back. It was just a second's hesitation, but it was enough to make Grace frown as she closed the window panes again. She didn't remember doing anything to annoy her, maybe she had asked her to do something and she'd forgotten? She'd been given so many things to do lately.

She headed downstairs and started helping people unload the supplies from the trucks. Realizing at one point that she hadn't burned the bliss flowers here yet, she bought some more supplies from the shop they set up and got to it. In another hour or two the place still had some smoke rising up from the gardens, but was fully occupied and set up. Grace looked around for Armstrong after saying goodbye to everyone, but the sniper was nowhere to be found. Letting a few people know she was looking for her, Grace left the outpost and headed towards the river. 

A lone civilian was sitting at the dock fishing the afternoon away, Grace greeted him and opened the wooden boathouse double doors, borrowing one of the Resistance's stashed jet skis. She revved the engine and took off, relishing the feel of the wind in her hair and the spray of the river as she sped northwest. McCoy Cabin wasn't too far by water, maybe she had been too hasty in casting aside her little haven. This region was almost completely under Resistance control now, she wouldn't have much left to do. Where would she go once Faith was taken care of? Grace doubted her ability to land the final blow, she'd avoided a final confrontation with John and that was why she was here in the first place. Maybe there was a way to apprehend Faith without killing her and take the key to her bunker. 

The river broke off in two directions, one would lead her closer to Jacob's region and the other would take her towards Peaches Taxidermy. Grace shifted her weight and took the left branch, definitely not ready to think about the Whitetail Mountains. She'd heard the horror stories about what happened up there, and venturing into Jacob Seed's territory was not something she was in a rush to take on. 

Grace was brought out of her musings at the shout of alarm in the distance, followed by a gunshot. The sound of the bullet hissing past her, too close for comfort, and disappearing into the water nearby made her head whip to the side. The voices had come from another dock she was currently passing, two peggies having emerged from the boathouse and spotted the Deputy herself on a damned jet ski passing by. So much for a bloodless day, but maybe she could increase her speed and leave them behind.

"Hey, get back here, sinner!" One yelled while the other took potshots at her, both of them running down the dock to a boat and hopping in. Grace cursed, having left her guns in her pack for what she assumed would be a peaceful ride to her cabin. She needed to quickly formulate a plan in her head as she heard the peggies boat come to life and start gaining on her. If she could make it to the dock right beneath Peaches' then maybe she could hit the ground running and get behind cover, it would give her enough time to get a firearm out. At least the boat they were chasing her in didn't have a mounted gun like some others had. 

There were another few gunshots from what thankfully sounded like a pistol not an assault rifle. As she increased speed she kept track of how much closer she was getting to her destination, keeping to the right side of the river where her escape route would be. The next shot rang out and managed to graze her right cheek, leaving a ringing in her ear and a burning sensation blossoming where it had passed. Grace felt the warmth of blood begin seeping slowly from the wound as she started to zig zag lightly, it would take a little longer this way but she was not about to get shot while she was defenseless on the river. 

Keeping her head low as she approached the dock, she managing not to get hit as she closed the distance to it. Only lowering her jet skis speed fractionally, she headed right towards the riverside and braced for impact as the bottom of the jet ski collided with the ground, bouncing up onto land, momentum taking it a good few meters onto land. She hopped off before it was even finished moving and ran for cover behind the first tree she came to, kneeling down in the dirt and frantically opening her pack. The seconds felt like hours as she fished around the bag, hearing their boat reach the dock. A rush of air left her lungs in relief as she grasped her handgun and made sure it was fully loaded. 

Pressing her back to the trunk of the tree, she listened to their steps as they climbed out of their boat and ran up the dock. 

"Where did she go?" 

"That bitch couldn't have gotten far." 

_'Language.'_ She thought wryly, imagining Joseph's scolding tone.

Chancing a peek when their steps became muffled as the dirt ground under their feet turned to grass, she saw they were about twenty meters away with their pistols raised, combing the area. She could sneak around the other side of her tree and get the one closest to her by surprise, but it would alert the second one and she would have to move fast. If he was slow on the uptake then she could get the upper hand before he got a shot at her. Creeping around and emerging from the other side of her tree, they had their backs to her as they checked the tall grass and behind other shrubbery. 

Grace held her breath in apprehension as she came up behind the first peggie, wishing they hadn't shot at her on sight. Wishing they hadn't had a boat to follow her and she could have just left them in the distance. Taking out the man in front of her with a silenced shot to the head, it didn't alert his friend a few feet away, but the sound of his body hitting the ground certainly did. He whipped around with his pistol aimed at her, but she had already moved towards him the minute his friends body started to fall. Her hand shot out and knocked his wrist to the side, breaking direct line of fire to her and causing his shot to go off in another direction. Keeping his wrist in one hand she used her other arm to elbow him hard across the face, unfortunately having to hear and feel the sickening crunch of his nose breaking.

He head jerked back and he howled in pain, his grip loosening enough on his pistol that she wrenched it from his grasp and tossed it away. Blood was dripping down his face as he covered his nose with one hand and came swinging at her with another. Grace easily dodged his one armed assault and grabbed his fist, twisting his arm and bringing him to his knees like she'd learned in the academy. Flipping her gun in her hand she put all of her strength into bashing the side of his head with the butt of her weapon. He stopped struggling and slumped forward, so she released his twisted arm and let him fall face first to the ground. 

Grace stood still, taking a moment to catch her breath. Well, putting a bullet in a mans head and beating another into submission certainly did take away from the lighthearted feeling Joseph had gifted her with earlier. She looked along the riverbank, making sure no one else arrived to investigate the shots or had followed their chase down the river. When she was sure everything was clear she turned to go get her pack. But she hadn't taken more than two steps when she felt a sudden harsh, stinging pain in her right calf that startled her and caused her to trip forward. Landing hard on her knees with a yelp, her pistol fell from her hand and she twisted back to look at the peggie she thought she'd knocked out. 

"You killed him!" The man yelled, face red with effort and rage as he held onto the handle of a small switchblade embedded in her calf, which explained the source of the searing pain traveling up her leg. 

Grace clenched her teeth and tried to twist onto her back more, needing him to let go of the handle. Using her unharmed leg, she reared it back and kicked him square in the face. More blood poured from his already broken nose and he yelled out, releasing the knife to protect his face. Adrenaline thrummed through her as she sat up and pulled the switchblade out of her leg, lurching forward and straddling her attacker. Mind racing with thoughts of survival as her own warm blood seeped down her leg, she took hold of the man's hair to hold him in place as she plunged the knife into his chest. He couldn't get up again, if he did there would be more blood, he would kill her. He wouldn't think twice, so she couldn't think twice.

Over and over, the glint of the blade flashing and disappearing until she was satisfied he would not get up ever again. When she was finished she sat atop his body, blood seeping into her jeans as she panted. Eventually the wave of panic went away and the blade slipped from her blood soaked fingers. She rolled off of him and lay on her back, staring up at the clouds passing by as disappointment consumed her. Birds chirped in the trees, unawares or uncaring of what just transpired. 

_Fuck._ Why couldn't _one_ damn day go by without people dying by her hand? She supposed she could have just let them kill her, but then she would be abandoning people instead of sticking around to protect them. The man's words echoed in her head, it had been jarring to hear someone so intent on killing her express anger over another peggie she had killed. Closing her eyes she relived the scuffle over and over in her mind. 

The crunch of his nose on her elbow, the feeling of the knife sinking into him and the red, red, red… 

With a start she realized that by laying right next to him she had lain herself in a growing pool of his blood. Whimpering in disgust, she stood up quickly and winced as she limped towards the river. Not again. She couldn't stand in the shower _again_ and watch blood swirl down the drain. Only going in up to her waist, she wasn't going to chance any deeper with her wound, she quickly dunked her head under the cold water and rinsed her hair until no blood remained. Then she set to work scrubbing at the rest of herself until the only evidence of blood on her was what had seeped into the fibers of her clothing. She would burn them later. 

Retrieving her pack, she slapped some gauze over her stab wound as a quick fix. She would give it a full treatment as soon as she got to the cabin, hopefully no one else had stumbled upon it and claimed it while she'd been gone. The walk back to McCoy's let her stew in her own disappointment, it wasn't a far trek from the river but it felt longer than usual as she shivered, still soaked from her river bath. She would dream of red again, of drowning, it made her not want to sleep. The thought of how the day had started so well was what kept her going as she walked up the drive, over the front porch and unlocked the front door. She would finally respond back to Joseph tonight, if she talked to him about what happened she would feel better. Not an official confession, just someone to talk to and find comfort in. 

And if in the end it _was_ a more like a confession, then she supposed that was alright after all. Her heart weighed so heavily in her chest that one day it would keep her from ever getting out of bed again.


	11. Intent

Grace woke to the feeling of warmth on her cheek, just under the graze she had earned from a bullet the night before. Breathing in deeply she leaned into the warmth and cracked her eyes open - peering up into Joseph's face. He sat on the edge of her bed caressing her cheek softly, as if she would break if he used too much pressure. She smiled up at him and opened her eyes fully, pressing a kiss to his palm upon her cheek. When she spoke her voice was still groggy with sleep.

"Hey there, stranger." 

"You returned." His voice was a balm to her ears in the early morning hour.

"Of course. Knew you were missing me too much already." She mumbled teasingly. 

Joseph smiled back at her, and at first she thought it was a trick of the mind, or just the sun shining through the window impairing her vision, but there it was. She hadn't seen a full on smile from him since the day they met, and it left her breathless. For a while neither said anything else, Grace letting herself have a moment to wake up and Joseph content to sit at her side and look at her. Before she had fallen asleep the night before she had placed butterfly bandages on her cut, and made small, uneven stitches in the knife wound on her calf. Just in case it bled overnight, and hell just because she was used to it, she slept in a clean flannel shirt and underwear, no pants. The injured leg was kept on top of the blanket, letting the wound breath and allowing Grace to enjoy the feel of a summer nights breeze on her leg as she slept. 

She took his hand from her face and raised her arms over her head, arching her back into a stretch. Wincing as the muscle in her calf protested, she sat herself up slowly and leaned forward to check her stitches, making sure she hadn't somehow ruined them in her sleep. Joseph's eyes followed her movement and caught sight of the small gash himself, making her shiver as he placed one hand on her knee and the other upon her ankle. He turned her leg ever so gently so that they could look at it better. She tried to keep her focus on how her injuries were feeling and not on how his strong hands felt holding onto her leg.

"Trouble finds you wherever you go, it would seem." 

Grace shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, brushing it all over one shoulder. 

"No matter how much I avoid it, bad things follow me everywhere." 

"It was prophesied. 'And behold, it was a white horse. And--" 

"--hell followed with him." They finished together. She sighed and rubbed her temples, willing a morning headache not to bother her. "Yeah that sounds pretty accurate." 

"The last time I asked how you were, you told me it felt like you were drowning. Will you tell me more?"

"Yeah… I guess I did tell you that. It's true. I've been having these nightmares every night...and there are so many things I want to help people here with. If I don't help them I couldn't live with myself, and if I _do_ help them I am damned. If I have to keep surviving like this for much longer, I…" She trailed off, closing her eyes and willing her muscles to relax. She hadn't meant to ramble away, but it was so easy to be open with him, because he was always open with her. 

"I am sorry, Grace. Sometimes the path chosen for us is not easy." 

She sighed and carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed so that her and Joseph were sitting side by side, her toes just brushing the floor. As she looked over at him she began wondering exactly how tall he was. She was only 5'5'', and even sitting he was a whole head taller. 

"If you could have chosen a different path, what would you have chosen?" 

Joseph clasped his hands together in front of him, taking a moment to give the question earnest contemplation. 

"I think I would have still tried to right the injustices I've seen. They are abundantly obvious in this world, even before the Voice came to me. Something involving that, I believe."

Grace nodded, relating in her own way to what he said. Since she was young she was never able to stand by and not help people, not try and shield them from the crappy things that were rampant in the world. Whether it was befriending bullied peers in school or taking on more than she could handle just so others could have an easier time. Or becoming a cop to get paid to do it. Some things never changed. Even if parts of someone's path was changed, they would still be the same person fundamentally. That was her guess, anyways. 

"So...like Spiderman?" She teased, nudging his side. 

He blinked and looked over at her, brow slightly furrowed. He opened his mouth but seemed to be trying to think of how to word something. Which was new, considering he always had a way with words. She could guess, though. 

"Yes, I've read your book."

His eyes lightened as his clasped hands came apart to rest on his knees. It seemed for once she was the one that managed to visibly surprise him. His eagerness was immediately palpable, it was part intimidating and part charming at the same time. 

"You have read the Word? I did not think you would." 

"Well I have. Several times. It gave me a lot to think about." 

She had to wait longer than she thought for a reply, eyeing his hands as they clenched into tight fists. Had she upset him? While she waited she suddenly remembered Faith's copy, tucked away in her pack still. Wordlessly standing up, she walked over to the kitchen counter where she had left her supply pack - careful to not put too much weight on her right leg. It only took a few moments of rifling through it to find the heavy, leather bound book and walk it back over to the bed. 

Grace stopped in front of him and held it out to him. If she didn't have the heart to burn it, then she might as well give it back. Joseph stood and reached out to take hold of the book, his fingers brushing hers and nearly distracting her from the look on his face as he marveled at the custom copy. 

"Faith told me you had destroyed it." 

"Well I told everyone I destroyed it, so that checks out. I just...couldn't do it. Sometimes I would reread it while you talked to me at night." It was harder to admit out loud than she thought it would be. It felt like bearing a weakness or opening a wound, but as soon as it was out of her head and out in the world it seemed like one of the imaginary monsters she thought lurked in her closet when she was a kid. All in her head, and not so scary once she shined a light on it. 

Joseph let the book fall to the bed and closed the distance between them, placing his hands on her hips to draw her in towards him. Pressing a delicate kiss just near the bandages on her cheek, he trailed soft, slow kisses along her jaw until he reached her lips. Their lips lingered inches apart for only a second before Grace leaned up on her tiptoes to capture his with her own. He tasted sweet like strawberries, lips only slightly chapped, as if he had been worrying too much himself lately. The passion she got in return for her enthusiasm was unexpected, as if it gave him a confirmation he'd been waiting for. He ran his fingers through her hair and cradled the back of her head, keeping his other hand pressed against her lower back, holding her right up against him. 

Which was exactly where she wanted to be. 

She wanted to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, wishing to see it out of his usual man bun and framing his face. Instead she settled for wrapping her arms around his neck, letting her hands rest on the back of it. Grace felt her cheeks flush in excitement as he nipped at her bottom lip, answering him by tentatively asking for entrance with her tongue. He _groaned_ and allowed her access, exploring his mouth and feeling for the first time in a long time like what she was doing was absolutely right. She melted and he held her together, kissing her over and over until she was dizzy with the feeling, until she couldn't remember a time when his lips hadn't been touching hers. 

Abruptly he pulled away, panting heavily, eyes closed as he seemed to fight to rein himself in. Grace released his neck and they allowed each other space and a moment to catch their breath. If she thought the look of him smiling had been magnificent, that had clearly been before she saw him with his cheeks flushed, licking his lips and running a hand over his head as he calmed himself down. 

"I… I am sorry. With you, it seems my control...wavers." 

"It's alright… More than alright, actually. But, uh, we should really-" She touched her fingers to her lips and looked around, trying to get her thoughts assembled.

Joseph picked up the book he had deposited on the bed, lingering between Grace and the door. For once he seemed to be genuinely hesitant about leaving. Or maybe he always had and she had just gotten better at reading his subtleties. 

"Thank you for checking on me. I'm still not sure what I want in all of this craziness, but I know I'd like to see you again." 

"May I come back tonight?" 

Grace blinked, caught off guard by the request. It didn't sound suggestive at all, that definitely wouldn't be in his nature, but held more of a serious note. And he had never asked for permission to stop by before. 

"...To talk. I would like your thoughts on my Word." He added, gesturing to the book in his hands. 

She smiled, walking him out with the promise that they could talk beliefs later. 

\-----

The afternoon found her grinning like a lovelorn fool, walking along the roadside as she headed towards the jail, keeping a casual pace so as not to stress her stitches. Honestly she should have her head checked - because if she had been told months ago that she would be sitting down to talk philosophy and religion with Joseph Seed, in a _non-hostile_ setting, then she probably would have shot that person cold. 

About halfway to her destination she spotted someone stumbling out from the forest towards the road. She was about to raise her hand and get their attention, always at the ready to offer help, when she saw a peggie emerge behind them. The first person she'd seen was being led along with a gun pointed to their back, so Grace quickly pulled out her aluminum bat and crept forward quietly. She would crouch, but she was worried what that would do to the stitches in her calf. It took less time than if she had been crouching to catch up with them, but was more nerve wracking not being in stealth mode. Getting within range, she winded up her bat and swung it forward at the peggie's head, intent on knocking him out. 

Only instead of connecting with a real human skull, Grace stumbled forward as it passed effortlessly through the cultist. Before she could let out a stream of expletives, the two of them disappeared in a puff of green smoke. _Goddamn_ Faith and this _goddamn_ bliss! Her vision blurred and the usual fairy lights began dancing in the periphery of her vision. She knew that losing consciousness usually came next, so she clumsily lowered herself to the ground and swayed dizzily as Faith's voice rang in her head - squinting as her surroundings turned a blinding white. 

_"You've been invited into our home...into our heart. Trust in the Path and you'll find the answers you seek."_

\-----

_When Grace opened her eyes again she was laying in a field, one that looked remarkably similar to an Eden. There was lush green grass, bliss flowers, and two rows of barren tree trunks leading the way to an enormous blooming tree that overlooked the whole field. What was beyond the field wasn't visible to her, a green fog obscuring everything but the Path. A wind she couldn't feel rustled it's leaves, sitting up she froze at the sight of a rabbit. But it wasn't like any rabbit she'd seen before, this one had deer antlers atop its head. Okay, maybe Feeney had managed to create a more potent bliss if she was seeing amalgam's of different animals put together._

_Grace felt happy, settling more quickly into the feeling of bliss than the last time. Her mind accepted this reality faster, but she also seemed more aware that this was a different state of being. Standing up, she began to walk towards the beautiful tree in the distance. It seemed to watch over this place like it was a guardian. A blue butterfly circled around her, landing upon her shoulder. Faith's voice whispered in her ear, though Grace couldn't see her anywhere._

_"Even those who fight against us seek salvation. You're proof of that."_

_Taking her eyes off of the butterfly she looked up and saw Faith twirling happily, as she usually was. She didn't feel afraid or intimidated here, in this garden, so she walked closer. Faith looked at her knowingly, sensing the complacency of Grace's self. She couldn't feel her injuries, and only felt a wave of pity for the lives she had been forced to take the other night. Yes, this was a much preferable way to live. If everyone was here in the bliss, in this garden, then there would be no bad in the world._

_"This is not what we were meant for. This is not what we fought for. Our path diverges from the outside world, now...and forever more."_

_That voice was so familiar, the Father? Joseph? Of course he was here. She should go see him._

_"We all need guidance in times like these. Now you'll see. Now you'll truly understand." Faith said gently, taking her by the arm and leading her. It wasn't long before the fog cleared enough for her to finally set eyes upon Joseph. He was just as she first saw him, shirtless and preaching. There were three peggies on the ground listening attentively. And also...Burke? The Federal Agent was smiling up at Joseph, as enraptured as everyone else. Faith put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her in closer to the group._

_"So we must be strong. We must be vigilant. Because those on the outside will see what we have built here together in our new Eden...the love." He paused, looking from his followers to Grace, before continuing. "And they will come. And they will try and take from us all we have built." She couldn't resist the pull to be near him, feeling like she practically floated to him as he held his arms out to her. Grace wanted to get closer, wanted for him to hold her like he had before, but he kept a hold on her shoulders and held her steady in front of him._

_"You judge me. You judge us. The things that we have done. People say...that I'm crazy, but when you wake up in the morning and you look at the same news that I do. Do your eyes not fill with horror? This is the world!?" His voice grew louder as his passion rose, he turned around and led her to do the same, gesturing towards the horizon._

_Grace allowed him to turn her - showing her a large mushroom cloud billowing up on the horizon. The wind she hadn't really felt before grew turbulent and harsh, whipping her hair as it blew debris around. The air felt hot, birds took flight and scattered, flying away from the chaos. The ground rumbled beneath her feet. No...this was terrible. It couldn't be real. It must_ not _be. Joseph looked back at her and shook his head, his sadness at the state of the world was palpable. Looking beyond him, she could see the dark clouds from the mushroom cloud getting nearer, rushing towards them and consuming everything in its path._

_But he stood in front of her, unafraid, accepting of the end drawing closer._

_"This? This is the world we built for our children? Communities being torn apart, walls being erected. Because leaders are too impotent to act. Bullies are too addled to lead righteously."_

_Grace nodded, truly believing in his message. Things had gone too far, the world ran on power and money and the people themselves were being left to the wayside. No one was doing anything, and the people that were, were not enough. Something had to give. Even now, as all this was happening in Montana, no one had come to help. Maybe they had even started a war, not that she would be able to know. Joseph extended his arms out and she was pulled into his orbit once again._

_"I did not ask for this. I was chosen."_

_Yes, she had not chosen this for herself, either. He pressed his forehead to hers as he had in the past, his skin feeling cool against hers. But this time there was a tingling behind her eyes, a jolt of white she felt that went straight to her heart. When he pulled away he stepped aside once again, showing her a future. The air had turned dirty and red, a stone path led the way past a burning car, a house burning to the ground. No...the world was burning. How had this happened?_

_"See, everything is coming to an end. You can feel that, I know you can. See, mankind is weak...and vulnerable. And we are hurtling towards our destruction and no one is willing to do anything about it. I can see that. You can see." He pointed at her and her heart leapt, his belief was contagious. His anger at the world was shared. She could see now, she had been blind._

_"And we are not crazy. So what are we supposed to do? We just sit back and await the inevitable?" Tears slid down her cheeks as he came closer, wiping them away with his thumbs._

_"I don't claim to be a perfect man. But I saw what was coming and I chose to act. To lead. Because society is broken, and the only way forward...is to go back to the way things once were." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Innocent and pure." Lower, he kissed her cheek, "So safe and protected...in our Garden. I can save you." He whispered, and she nodded back to him, wanting - pleading for him to save her. He understood, as he always did, and leaned down. Her gaze followed him, watching complacently as he picked a bright white bliss flower, offering it over to her._

_"But you have to have Faith."_

_Yes, she needed Faith…_

_Her vision faded once more._

\-----

"Rook? Rook! Rook! Open your eyes!" A man's voice. 

Every sound that reached her sounded eons away, like her ears had come close to popping but never actually did. It was all muffled. The next thing her scrambled mind noticed was that her body hurt, she could suddenly feel her wounds once more. She could feel the fire Joseph had shown her consuming her, and the whole world. Vibrations shook the planet - crumbling civilization as she knew it. It would all be burnt and buried, and she had a sneaking suspicion it was because she hadn't left well enough alone. Her forehead burned where Joseph had pressed his against hers. She let out a sob at the loss of the bliss and the return of bleak reality. When she felt unfamiliar hands grabbing at her she immediately thrashed out and tried to get loose. 

"C'mon give 'em the adrenaline. C'mon, c'mon. C'mon-stop fighting! C'mon just calm down!" 

"No!" She screamed, her throat feeling raw, trying to pull herself away from whomever was trying to keep her pinned down. 

No, they could not have her! She would not be part of the end, she could still make a difference! Still save people. She had to get to Joseph, had to ask him questions, ask how to avoid the future she had seen. No one would hold her back - she kicked and punched, growling in frustration as she tried to shake the hands off of her. She still felt the bliss thrumming behind her eyes and through her veins, keeping her high for the moment, making her feel indestructible. Was this what it was like to be an angel?

"Don't fucking move! I need you calm and still." A female voice. Finally opening her eyes, everything seemed blurry and unfocused. A woman in a hood was holding something long and sharp just over her chest, the sight caused Grace to shriek and thrash more, biting at the hands of the man holding her down. He was bearded and had a large hat on, she didn't recognize either of them in her delirium. 

"Jesus christ, Rook, enough!" He yelled, pushing her face away. So, she screamed louder. Maybe someone would hear her and come save her! Otherwise it was all over - she had to hide and find the garden. Had to be safe and sound, if they wouldn't let her then they would burn, too. She viciously clawed at the mans hands restraining her, scratching enough to draw blood. 

"Sheriff Whitehorse. This is Joseph Seed." 

Grace shut up abruptly, still crying, but trying her hardest to catch her breath even though she was hyperventilating. Her captors froze too, looking down at the radio on her hip. For a beat silence reigned in the medical bay of the jailhouse.

"What the fuck?" Said the woman, lowering what she now determined through her blurry vision to be a needle, watching as the man released Grace and reached down to take her radio. No, no, no, she needed to speak with him, he would save everyone! She jolted up and tried to escape, roaring angrily as the hooded woman pushed her back down, taking the place of the bearded one. "Make it quick, Whitehorse, she's really fuckin' out of it!" 

"Joseph Seed, this is Sheriff Whitehorse." He paused, keeping his line going as he waited for her next bout of screaming to subside. It was hard for her to formulate words and sentences, she just felt anger and helplessness. "You've never contacted us before. What is it you want?"

"Deputy Grace Rook. I take it you have her." His voice was low and tense, making Grace feel alarmed. If the Father was upset then she should probably be, too. 

"She is a Deputy at this jail."

"She is a pawn you use to wield your malice."

"What are you talking about, Seed?" 

Before the man could take his hand off the push to talk button, she cried out and punched the woman holding her down in the face, choking back a sob and nearly dislocating her shoulder to try and get off the cot, reaching for the radio Whitehorse was holding with a whimper. 

"Tracey, goddammit it, give her the shot!" 

"I can't unless you get your ass over here and hold her down!" 

When Joseph responded she had never heard his voice sound so angry, so on edge. Not even when Burke was shoving a warrant in his face. It gave rise to goosebumps on her arms. 

"In your depravity, your sloth, you send her out to do everything for you. To commit the sins you cannot yourself do. And you lead her astray." His voice steadily got louder. 

"She is doing her part to help fight against you and yours. What is the point of this call, Joseph?"

"Let me speak to the Deputy."

"No fucking way, Sheriff. Don't let him talk to her." 

"Yes, Tracey, I know." He said gruffly to the woman, before returning to the radio. "I'm sorry but that's not going to happen."

"Then a deal, Sheriff. Bring her out. Give her to Eden, and we will let you have Cameron." 

"Who?"

"Cameron. Burke." The words came out from gritted teeth. There was complete silence for a minute as the man considered and the woman watched him in disbelief.

"Over my dead body." The hooded woman hissed when the bearded one spent too much time thinking. Just then, a splitting migraine formed in the front of her head. She began to convulse on the table, unable to control a shaking that started up in her limbs. Where was her happiness? She was coming down, down… Her teeth chattered and she grabbed her head, stopping the struggle against the hooded woman to scratch at her head where her skull felt like it was splitting. The bliss was fading, she needed more, more - the garden had been so close!

"Whitehorse, put the damn radio down we have to inject her _now_!" 

"Trade denied, Joseph. The Deputy is not yours to have." He switched off her radio and set it down on the side table next to her, replacing the woman's hands with his own. She hurt to much to struggle, her strength ebbing away in her despair. Grace felt stuck inside her own body, watching as the woman picked up the large syringe again and readied it over her chest. Before she could muster up the power the fight back, the needle was plunged into her chest. 

Grace lurched up and cried out, adrenaline rushing through her heart and to her extremities. The sinking feeling of coming out of the bliss was rushed away. Her migraine cleared and her limbs felt less achey. Despite it being adrenaline pumped into her, she started to find it hard to keep consciousness, feeling the need to move but unable to properly wield her limbs. 

"That's it… That's it… Good... Good… Jesus christ you scared the shit out of us." 

Whitehorse. That voice was Whitehorse, he sat back on a stool and sighed in relief. She didn't have the energy to acknowledge him, simply watching mutely as he and Tracey fussed over her. Her mind felt less frazzled, noticing Tracey picking up her hand and sliding an IV needle into it. She barely felt it. 

"You come out of the bliss too fast, shit's liable to scramble your fuckin' brains." 

Her eyes had just begun to close when the bay doors slammed open and Virgil rushed in. 

"They're here! Peggies outside!" 

"The hell? How many?" Tracey asked, sounding annoyed even though her expression was concerned.

"A lot. Several trucks with mounts. It's serious firepower out there we need all the hands we can get."

Her heart skipped a beat, she willed herself to stay awake to find out more. If she could just snap herself out of it she could go outside and help defend everyone. Using what little strength she had to roll her head to the side, but failing to see the commotion going on beyond the doors. What was happening? Her memory was fading, she was fading. 

"Awww… Jesus. Now you just...you just relax, lie back. I'll see you in the morning… Christ." Whitehorse told Tracey to stay with her and disappeared out the door followed closely by Virgil. 

She let the darkness take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your support and feedback! Your comments mean the world :)


	12. Yearn

There is nothing that Grace is quite sure of over the next few days. She remained bedridden, taking longer to recover from this trip into the bliss than the previous time. Tracey had told her if she'd remained in it any longer she would have become one of Faith's angels. The thought of becoming one of those mindless zombies, of everything about her being stripped away, made her feel sick. Laying incapacitated in the medbay, she had more than enough time to think everything through. The thought that she'd nearly lost herself made her realize that underneath all of her self loathing she still found her life worth something. Sometimes it was difficult to keep still as she let herself recover, there was a near constant flood of Resistance members moving to and fro throughout the jail. After Whitehorse had rejected Joseph's request to hand her over, Faith had started launching attacks on the jailhouse every other day, presumably as per the Father's request. No one told her more than that, everyone seemed preoccupied.

All she could do was listen to the gunfire and fighting in the distance, along with the occasional rumble from a grenade and voices she couldn't quite make out. At some point reinforcements from would come from other outposts and the peggies would be driven off. But they always came back. The jailhouse seemed strangely quiet in those hours, people tending to their wounds and the distance sound of the front gates being reinforced all over again. Sometimes she would have someone turn on the radio just so she wouldn't have to hear it. It was annoying that she couldn't help, but she was physically and mentally exhausted. Her chest had a large bruise where the needle had been plunged in, but at least it was out of the horrid dark purple phase and into its greenish yellow phase. The stab wound on her leg had its stitches removed and was healing nicely, only leaving a small scar. 

Grace would have radioed Joseph, if only to let him know she was alright. It didn't feel right that people from both sides were hurting each other over her, whether the Resistance knew it or not. But when she'd woken up she couldn't find her radio anywhere. She'd heard she had been in the room when Joseph had first contacted Whitehorse, but barely remembered anything after she'd come out of her bliss hallucination. Words couldn't describe the regret and shame she felt when she saw the bruises she had given Tracey, the claw and bite marks left on the Sheriff's hands. Had that really been her? She could still remember what she'd seen while _in_ the bliss - the end of the world. The so called 'Collapse'. It had left her with so many questions. Was that was Joseph saw? It had seemed so real, but if it was just a trick of the bliss she wanted to know. 

On the fifth day she was up and wobbling about during one of the lulls between attacks. Despite her peers insistence that she rest, she made it the short distance to the lab in back of the med bay. Talking to Dr. Lindsey to learn about the effects of bliss, Grace learned that apparently it was natural to have feelings of euphoria and openness, to hallucinate at an extreme level and be unable to differentiate between what was dream and reality. It was endearing to hear how worried he was over her as he reminded her firmly that one more trip into the bliss and she might not be recoverable. 

It wasn't a comforting thought, but she would rather hear the truth than sugar coated comfort. She thanked him and left, heading for Virgil's office, stopping by the large cork board that kept all of the fishing records for the county. She patted it, telling herself there would be a day where she could relax and go fishing without needing to look over her shoulder constantly. 

As she walked away and made for the office, she could hear chatter from within. It sounded like mumbling from Virgil and a more clear voice from Whitehorse. She stopped at the door and pressed her ear to it, thankful it wasn't a reinforced door like most the prison had. It made it way easier to eavesdrop on what was being said on the other side. 

"I gave you my answer already." Whitehorse was saying. 

"I only wish to speak with her." Grace stopped breathing, reaching out to grip the door handle. That was Joseph's voice. They were still communicating with him? No one had told her, she hadn't been briefed on anything but the fact they were being attacked. Had Joseph been trying to negotiate this whole time? 

"She doesn't need to hear anything from the likes of you." 

"Put the Deputy on, Sheriff. Eden knows how to best help come out of the bliss." 

"Your damn cult nearly turns her into an angel, and now you want us to believe you'll help her? You're missin' more screws than I thought, Joseph." 

"My offer still stands. Burke for the Deputy. It seemed to tempt you last time."

She stood at the door, wracking her brain as she tried to remember their conversation when she came out of it. It was just a blur of pain and yelling, she could remember a conversation happening but not what was said. It stunned her to learn that Joseph was willing to trade one of Faith's captives for her, especially Burke. But had Whitehorse really considered the offer? The office was quiet for a minute and she contemplated walking in, contemplated the fact that Whitehorse would have traded her. 

"Sheriff?" 

Whitehorse sighed and she heard what she thought was the sound of him slamming the radio down on his desk. Now might be a good opportunity to casually walk in. She knocked twice and opened the door, Virgil was pretending to be distracted by his pins and Whitehorse was massaging his temples. He looked up as she entered and motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, but her legs were feeling more steady by the minute now that she had been standing for awhile. She opted to ignore the seats in favor of standing and keeping her legs active. 

"Everything alright, Sheriff?" 

"Faith's men have pulled back again. But they will be returning. I didn't realize they had this many forces left."

"Why do they keep attacking?" She had asked before but no one had given her a straight answer. 

Whitehorse sighed, leaning back in his seat and readjusting his sheriff's hat. It irked her that he had to consider whether or not she should know the information. Had she not earned enough respect after freeing up the entire Henbane? 

"I think... _we_ think, it's because of you." 

She schooled her expression into a neutral one, but it confirmed her suspicions. Joseph had probably learned what happened to her, and was only aware that she was injured and staying here with people that wouldn't let him talk to her. It wasn't the most romantic thing, in fact she hated the thought of anyone losing their life over her, but in a twisted way she understood his response. The Father did not take slights to those close to him lightly, and through a strange twist of events she had found herself one of those people. 

Grace was touched that he was worried about her enough to try and break her out of jail, so to speak. There was probably a country song that perfectly described this situation.

"I don't think I'm worth these constant assaults, Sheriff. But he was asking for me, wasn't he?" Keeping her voice curious, her bluff at ignorance paid off. Whitehorse nodded. 

"Tracey told you, eh? Yeah. Only thing he's asked for is you. I'm not surprised, though, you've been causing hell for the cult all over…" 

His voice faded into the background, Grace could only think of the first part of his answer. Joseph had called immediately and asked for her. Even at the start of all this he always offered a choice. It was easy to think that the cult left no options to people, but with Joseph there was always a choice available - even if it wasn't a very fair one. Join us or die in the Collapse, cuff me or walk away, give me Grace or feel my fury. Leaving that revelation as food for thought later, she blinked back into the moment and caught the tail end of his ramble. 

"...so they must be happy about that." 

"Wait, sorry, happy about what?" 

"Seed Ranch. John took it back the other day. Cult must be happy about that." 

Whatever pride she had felt before was cowed by the idea that one of her hard won outposts had been reclaimed. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe now that the bliss was becoming too much of an obstacle for her she should consider going back to Holland Valley. She chewed on her lip and lost herself in her thoughts, only vaguely aware of Whitehorse patting her on the shoulder and leaving with Virgil. She analyzed what she knew in her head, coming to the conclusion that weak or not she shouldn't stay at the Hope County Jail. She should leave and make it known she left, so that they wouldn't keep attacking the place to get her. And after that, it would be smartest to return to the Valley, the bliss wasn't something she could risk again.

Despite numerous protests from said doctor about her condition to leave, she requisitioned her supplies from their safekeeping in the armory and got ready to head out. She still wasn't feeling one hundred percent better, but she had to speak to Joseph. On her way out the door by the armory Tracey blocked her way, and for a terrifying moment she thought the woman would force her to stay. She didn't want to feel trapped, didn't want to spend another night listening to the bullets flying. Rationalizing to her that the jail couldn't stand much more assault, hell she'd heard they didn't even have the supplies to keep repairing the gates, Grace convinced her that she wouldn't be a terrible friend for letting her leave. Of course she left out the talking to Joseph part, once he knew she wasn't there he would pull back his forces. There wasn't much Tracey could say when letting her go was the most logical option available. The members were exhausted, people had died, it was time for her to go and let them have a break. 

Before she forgot she turned around and made a point to return to the office and grab her radio. It irked her to no end - the idea they hadn't trusted her to hold onto it. They could have contacted him on the jail frequency with any radio, but they'd purposefully kept hers and used it. 

\-----

Of course she would have been crazy to turn down a ride, so she accepted the offer to borrow a Resistance truck and set out north. She made a show of leaving so that any peggies keeping any eye on the place would see her departure, meanwhile making sure not to look around the lot at the dead bodies of people from both sides. Once the jail disappeared in her rear view she kept a low profile the rest of the trip. It was a risk to be outside with all of the bliss in the air, and even with the windows up she could smell the flowers. Hopefully she would stay sober enough to finish the drive, she was already halfway there when she heard Faith's voice in her head once more. It was especially disturbing after days of _not_ having a voice in her head, it made her stomach turn.

_"Your friends on the outside...they are controlled by fear. They don't understand. They are using you, Deputy."_

Grace shook her head and smacked her ear, thinking maybe if she treated the voice like water in her ears it would just loosen and trickle out. But despite her meager efforts to not think about her words, her thoughts wandered to the hesitation Whitehorse had had when asked to trade her. After everything she had done, all that she had sacrificed and accomplished for the Resistance, and he considered trading her? For _Burke_? 

_"I know you have your doubts, but this is the only way the story ends. Nothing you can do to change that."_

She slammed her palms against the wheel impatiently, reaching the dock south of the cabin and parking haphazardly. Leaving the keys with the Resistance member she found there, she adjusted her pack straps and headed up through the woods to her little haven. As the cabin started to come into sight beyond the trees and overgrowth she took hold of her radio, turning it back on and tuning to the jail's frequency.

"Sheriff Whitehorse, respond." It was Joseph, sounding frighteningly calm. Had he been trying to get a hold of the jail since Whitehorse had 'hung up' on him? She could see him digging in for the long haul and patiently reaching out repeatedly until someone gave in. Mentally berating herself for not checking sooner, she pressed the button on the side.

"Joseph. This is Deputy Rook." 

There was barely a second of hesitation in his response time.

"Deputy. Where are you?" He prodded, sounding collected like he normally did. But she knew him better now, a least a little, and was able to detect his restless undertones. 

"I left the jail, Joseph. No need to attack anymore. And it's not like you know where to find me." 

Grace clenched the radio and hoped he got the message, they had been on a public frequency so she couldn't just come out and tell him she would be at the cabin or to switch to their private channel. Most radios in the Henbane were either tuned to the only regular music station available, or the jail's, so she had to hope he got the message. He never replied back, so she switched to frequency thirty three and reattached it to her hip. Allowing herself a relieved smile at the sight of the rundown cabin, taking her time going up the porch steps, unlocking the door and dropping all of her things on the couch. It was still empty and looked just like she left it, but there was something itching in the back of her mind, something off that had her detective senses tingling. She stood in the middle of the room and put her hands on her hips, looking around at every bit of furniture. When she looked down and examined the floor her eyes caught on what was amiss, small black scuff marks in front of the kitchen area. There was only one person who would come in here just to pace and scuff up her floor. If she knew Joseph, he wouldn't keep her waiting long.

And as predicted, less than ten minutes later she heard a car pull up quickly to the drive, skidding to a halt near the side of the cabin. Peeking out the window she saw the tire marks embedded in the dirt and shook her head. Really, underneath everything, Joseph was a mother hen. Snorting as she thought of everyone starting to call him 'The Mother', she left the window and went to the door. Unlocking it and swinging it open, she was just in time to see Joseph quick walking up the porch steps and halting in front of her. 

Grace smiled to reassure him, leaning against the frame as they both looked each other over for the first time in days. Without his shirt on she could more easily see the rise and fall of his chest, a little faster than normal considering he'd sped over here immediately. His rosary swung from his left hand, he had on an Eden's Gate belt and worn black jeans. Grace moved to the side and gestured for him to enter, he took off his aviators and stepped in. Though he quickly turned back, like he found it hard to believe she was finally right in front of him. 

"I'm sorry. I would have contacted you sooner, but… I wasn't well." She started. While she was laying around for days she had a lot of time to think about their relationship. She definitely felt like a traitor to her friends, hanging out with the one man that had ordered the attacks them for the last few days. But it wasn't like she would feed him intel or anything that could harm the Resistance. Never that. Grace just felt she...needed him. That it would be a mistake to destroy whatever relationship she had managed to cultivate with him. 

"I heard you screaming." Joseph grit out, his fist raised up and shook a worn looking radio in his grip. "I heard you fighting, _crying_ out." 

The anger in his voice rose, rivaled only by his concern, as he tossed his radio onto the couch. She didn't know what to say, she knew he had been worried. Knew this wasn't anger at her, but at everyone that had been in the jail. Frustration at the possibility that someone he'd wanted to save was beyond his reach. At a loss, she could only nod at him. 

"I know." 

"I tried to take you back." 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I am not anyone's to take, Joseph." 

She didn't hear him move forward, but felt him grab hold of her arms suddenly, making her eyes shoot open. He looked at her the way he had after the helicopter crashed, wide eyed and knowing. It hadn't really struck her how much this all had affected him until now, seeing that look again. 

"God sent you to me. To _me_." He hissed. Grace opened her mouth, but could not find words. John had given her a similar look when she had told him 'yes' to spare Hudson. The same fervent, determined look he had given her as he told her she wouldn't regret her decision. It was enough to stun her into silence. It was the first time in a long while she'd felt obsession radiating from him, and the first time she noticed it directed at her. Always fascinated, persistent, but never seeming obsessed. She shivered as his eyes bore into hers, but she was spared as he began looking her over for sign of injury, eyes catching on the bruising peeking up over her collar. 

"For I know the plans I have for you…" He asserted, hands releasing her arms and moving up to gently grasp the collar of her blue shirt, when she did nothing to stop him he pulled the collar down to just above her breasts. His eyes swept over John's tattoo before taking in the sight of the large bruised expanse of skin where her adrenaline shot had entered. The angry, red puncture was still healing in the center. His nostrils flared, she watched the muscle in his jaw flutter as his fingers trailed over the yellowed skin in silent question, "...plans to prosper you, and not to harm you." 

"Adrenaline shot." She whispered. He returned her collar and circled her closely. She stayed still for him, aware now of just how much he needed affirmation of her well being. 

"Plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come to pray to me, and I will listen to you." He continued, kneeling down in front of her and lifting the hem of her right pant leg, fingers brushing over the now scarred stab wound before standing back up. Without warning he pulled her into an embrace, holding her in his arms and burying his face in her hair, breathing in deeply. "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." He murmured fervently into her hair. Grace returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around him in return. She felt so worn out, even just from the short journey from the jail back to here. She was tired, but happy to see him again. His intensity and beliefs now felt comfortably familiar to her, whereas once they had scared her. 

He pulled back enough to look down at her, face so close their noses brushed against one another. 

"I will be found by you, and bring you back from captivity." Finished, he captured her lips with his in a tender caress. She felt like she could feel what he felt, like when he had pressed his forehead to hers and shown her his vision. It felt more urgent than their previous ones, she could feel his relief and happiness. The feel of his warm lips claiming hers was a formidable rival to any Eden the bliss dreamt up for her. Breathless, she pulled back, loathing her need for oxygen. His lips followed after hers, bereft at the loss of contact, giving her soft chaste pecks as a huff of laughter escaped her. Giving in for a little while, she made sure to kiss this man thoroughly enough to sate both of them after their ordeal. She re-familiarized herself with his scent, his taste, the feel of his beard tickling her and his soft moans of approval. Grace broke their kiss and took his bottom lip into her mouth, sucking on it and teasing it with her tongue. She waited for the feel of his tightening grip on her, the feel of him leaning in for more, before releasing it with a 'pop' and soothing his lips with smaller, more gentle kisses to calm them both down. 

After they finally broke their kiss they stood nose to nose, forehead to forehead, holding each other in the middle of the room, content to share each other's space. 

"What was that from?" She inquired, he seemed more like himself now that she was in his arms, less tense than when he had first came in.

"Jeremiah 29:11." His voice in her ear did sinful things to her, "I prayed to God to keep you safe, and read that passage over and over. Tell me what transpired, Grace."

"I was walking and I saw someone who needed help. They were being led at gunpoint by a peg- one of your flock. But when I went to knock the guy out, they both disappeared. They were nothing but bliss. It worked so fast, it was so vivid. I didn't know it could be that strong." Her eyes glazed over slightly as she relived the experience over again in her head. "The only thing I remember after that is waking up in the jail a few days later." 

It occurred to Grace that his patience was rubbing off on her, for they spent another long span of time taking comfort in simply breathing in the same air. He pulled his head away first, and she gave him a questioning look. 

"Faith. She was told to hold back with the bliss. To not make it any stronger. She has proven herself less than worthy of her title. I cannot have a Herald that does not obey the will of the Father." He sounded detached, as if he had thought this over enough to become desensitized to it. 

"It needs to stop. The levels of it are dangerous. There won't be anyone of sane mind left to join you, even if they wanted to." She pressed, hopeful that he could be convinced now. 

"Yes. It is too detrimental to be of use for conversion, now." 

If there was anything positive to be gained about everything that had happened, it was Joseph coming to more firmly believe that bliss was a last resort and too dangerous otherwise. He pressed a kiss where her gunshot graze had healed. Grace closed her eyes and leaned into it, becoming a tad too relaxed in his arms. Not wanting to fall asleep standing up, she pulled away and stifled a yawn, feeling fatigue in her limbs. 

"I'm sorry, my mind is okay but my body still needs a little rest." She stepped back from his arms and let him lead her over to the bed with a warm hand on her back. Grace sat down onto the mattress with a sigh of relief - she would always have a newfound appreciation for beds after having slept outside so much. Before she could move to do it herself, Joseph had kneeled on the ground in front of her and began unlacing her boots. 

"Do not strain yourself, not for them. Not anymore. They will destroy you, Grace." There was that edge in his voice again, the same he had when he was radioing Whitehorse. He finished removing her boots and placed them to the side. 

"They would say the same about you."

His hands grasped her calves right below her knees. It was the strangest thing, to see the Father on his knees before her - a less than pure part of her wanted to go over the lustful ideas this presented, but it was impossible to focus on those when he seemed to genuinely believe that her friends would harm her. She wanted to tell him that they weren't bad people, that his people weren't bad. That if both sides stopped _killing_ each other then they were all just _people_. They looked at each other, both desperately trying to convey their concerns. 

"And you? Do you think I will harm you?" 

She tilted her head to the side and reached out to cup his cheek, shaking her head 'no'. There was no part of her that thought he would destroy her. She had come to him raw and desolate and he'd had every opportunity to end her life. His gaze softened at her reply and she realized all over again how tense he had looked.

"I will...speak with Faith. This will not continue, sin must not be allowed to spiral." He released his grip and stood up, silently helping her beneath the covers.

Before she could say anything else to him he had crossed the room and closed the door behind him. She remembered the feel of his hands gripping her long after he'd left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feedback I received for the last chapter was beyond what I expected. Thank you for your continued support! Smut is imminent :)


	13. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smutty smut smut.

Nighttime found Grace standing by the riverside south of the cabin. The air was cool and sloshing of the water was calming to listen to. Joseph had been right, fireflies were appearing left and right, dancing over the grass and river like little lanterns. Earlier she'd washed her clothes here and came right back after they'd dried off. Clad in sneakers, black jeans, and a button up flannel, it was all she needed to keep comfortable on a summer night. 

Walking over to the dock she sat on a fold out chair and pulled the length of her hair over her shoulder, watching clouds pass and stars shine as she braided the brown tresses. She had practically napped all day, feeling better now that she'd gotten word from the jail that the attacks had stopped. Her friends were radioing her to keep an eye over her shoulder, because if Joseph wanted her that badly he would stop at nothing to get her. She could only feel guilty about not being able to tell them that she had nothing to worry about. Joseph Seed wasn't her issue, his gun toting followers and Heralds were. 

...And the fact she had decided she was only going to kill as a last resort from now on. That was a decision that would make things harder. 

It was going to be a difficult thing to explain to her friends, but the more she thought on it the more she thought she might be giving them too little credit. Practically no one here had been a soldier before everything went down. Grace definitely shouldn't be the only one who felt strange about being made to kill so often, so there was bound to be understanding there. By the time she had left to head back to the cabin she had made up her mind to talk to her friends. Sharky, Grace, Tracey, the Rye's. The sooner she told them the better, she was losing her sanity with all this bloodshed and needed a break. Perhaps there was something less violent she could do to help the Resistance. 

She stopped at the roadside, the tradition of looking both ways before crossing still strong, and waited for a blue van with the word 'Sinner' keyed onto the hood to pass by. Squinting at the headlights as it got closer, she tensed as it drove up beside her and slowed to a stop. Blinking the light spots out of her eyes she found herself looking at Whitehorse and Armstrong. Had she arrived at the jail after Grace had left? She didn't remember seeing her the whole time she had been on bed rest. 

"Sheriff? Grace? What are you guys up to?" She asked, coming up to the car after Whitehorse rolled the driver side window down. 

"We were lookin' for you, Rook. Faith Seed is dead." 

The surprise on her face was genuine, a rush of shock racing from her head to her toes. She had just seen her in the bliss a few days ago, had heard her voice in her head a few hours ago. When Whitehorse realized she was still taking the information in, he continued.

"A patrol said they found her body in a lake. It was filled with bliss flowers. We don't know what happened." 

"Holy shit." She whispered, placing her hands on the open window of the van. "Wait, so what does this mean?" 

"It means we got her bunker key. We need your help. Faith is gone but her Gate is still full of peggies. I know you just got mobile, but we need your help clearing it out." 

Her mouth ran dry, she let go of the window and backed up. She remembered the Path, the people walking up and down it praying. Faith was a manipulative, despicable, lying… But even so, the people she had drugged and manipulated were in that bunker. The thought of shooting up that entire underground bunker, even if just helping stand outside with reinforcements to shoot anyone trying to escape, made her blood run cold. No way. She couldn't help them with this. 

Grace shook her head, voice coming out shakily. 

"I can't do that, Sheriff." 

He blinked at her owlishly, absorbing her words. Armstrong leaned over him to peer at her as well, confusion plain on her face. 

"What?"

"I-I can't. I've done so much. Don't ask me to help with this." 

"What in the world are you talking about, Rook?" 

"Yeah Dep, let's go kill these sonovabitches." Armstrong motioned to her sniper rifle. "This whole time you been pokin' at Faith. Now she's gone, let's finish them off!" 

The more they prodded the more indignant she felt herself become. 

"I said I _can't_. You guys got this, I am going back to Holland Valley." She backed away from the van, walking around the front of it and making her way towards the path to the cabin. Behind her she heard a van door slam and the stomp of Armstrong's boots as she came closer. With an aggravated sigh she spun around, willing her partner to look at the exhaustion on her face and understand how she was feeling. How violently her mind rejected the idea of going to that bunker.

"Rook, what's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into me? Is it really so _surprising_ that I don't want to waltz into a bunker of bliss when I barely made it out alive last time?" She demanded.

Now that the shock of the news had pulled away there was a wave of anger rising up to take its place. The growth of an ugly resentment towards their request, after everything that had just happened to her.

"I'm sorry, but we _need_ your help with this bunker. We can wrap a cloth ove-" 

"That is _not_ the point, Grace!" She yelled. "I could fill olympic sized _goddamn_ swimming pools with the amount of blood on my hands! I took the whole Valley, I claimed the whole _fucking_ Henbane for the Resistance! Land this last blow on your own." Grace let her anger, her wrath, drown out the urge to cry. It was a cruel pain, the feeling of being disposable to people she considered her friends. One more trip, they'd said. One more trip and Grace Elisabeth Rook would cease to exist as they knew it. If she went into that bunker she would either lose her mind, or her soul. 

She'd had days to lay in bed and feel grateful that she hadn't become an angel, to realize she was worth saving. How could they ask her to do this? 

"I don't know why you are coppin' an attitude with _me_ , but--"

"I don't want to argue with you, Grace. You guys have a bunker to get to. Maybe if you manage to save Burke you'll get the bad ass agent he almost traded me for." She ended heatedly, waving Armstrong off and turning on her heel. She futilely willed herself to feel nothing, not anger or resentment or sadness, simply nothing. Neither Armstrong or Whitehorse followed after her. 

Holland Valley was quite the walking distance from her little haven, but she had rested enough for the day and was too energized by her anger to want to sit around. She would walk off as much anger as she could and then radio Joseph, if he was still in the area maybe he could give her a ride. There was a much lower chance of being attacked by peggies if she actually got a ride from one. It was ingenious, really. Gathering her things she began the journey back - if she never smelled a bliss flower again it would be too soon. If Faith hadn't been such a pain in the ass, Grace might have felt pity for her. But at this point she would rather hear John's annoying radio calls than have a voice in her head ever again. 

Her radio didn't crackle to life with news of what was happening. How many forces were at Faith's Gate right now? Who was winning? How many dead already? 

Faith was definitely one of the fallen. And it wasn't by her hand, she had been sleeping in the cabin. The only thing she knew for sure was that Joseph said he was going to talk to her. Grace remembered passing by them on the Path, their interaction then had seemed strained. And after her first trip into the bliss he'd told her that Faith had gone against his instruction. It didn't take much contemplation to acknowledge he was fully capable of murdering the one Herald that was not actually related to him. Especially remembering how affected he was by her recent brush with death.

The argument with her friends pushed into the back of her mind, she got out her radio and called in that ride. Maybe he needed someone, too. 

\-----

Joseph had been, unsurprisingly, happy to give her a ride. They were currently driving the speed limit (really, _who_ was going to pull them over?) across the Henbane towards Holland Valley. He had both hands on the wheel, rosary occasionally swinging against the dashboard. For the first few minutes it had been silent except for the peggie station playing, but the more she watched his calm demeanor as he drove, the more she found herself bursting with questions. 

"You killed her." 

"Are you asking or telling?" 

"...Telling?" 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

"Yes. I did. She could not see how her Path had strayed." 

"Wow. Just like that?" 

"I am not a leader who hesitates to act when things need correcting." 

"But...she was your Herald. You left her body in a lake." 

"She died peacefully in the bliss. Do not mourn her loss of life, mourn the loss of someone who was supposed to be a pillar of Faith, and let themselves be overcome by Pride." 

"I don't mourn, period. I think she was terrible." Grace stated. It hadn't been upsetting to find out of her death, just surprising. Most of all she felt relief, because this meant she wouldn't have to do it herself. The trees blurred by outside the window as they fell into silence again. She had been doing so much resting lately that it was hard to not fidget and to sit still, so she opted for more conversation. They still had a ways to go before they left Faith's region in their rearview. 

"You aren't worried about Faith's Gate?" 

Her gaze was drawn from the passing fields when she felt his hand cover hers, holding it comfortingly. Joseph shook his head imperceptibly, keeping his eyes on the road. 

"That bunker was strictly used for bliss production and storage. I now intend to only use bliss on those who are exceptionally...unwilling." He admitted the last part slowly, giving her a side glance as if expecting an angry response. When she remained silent he continued, "So it is of no use to me now. They may destroy it. The important Gate's are John and Jacob's, filled with supplies to last us through the Collapse." 

"How long will we need supplies for?" 

"Seven years. After seven years we will emerge into a new Eden." 

Grace gaped, imagining spending that much time underground. And all of those followers. No wonder he'd had his people ransacking all of the county. 

"Holy crisis." She mumbled, tilting her head back against the headrest. Something told her he would lecture her if she used the word 'Christ'. It was funny how she was preemptively censoring her language around him now. The realization rolled off of her harmlessly, she had always tried to cut down on her swearing and it only took a clucking mother hen like Joseph to nag her enough to make it happen. Joseph did little more than quirk an eyebrow at her turn of phrase, but did not deign to comment. 

They held hands for the rest of the ride, but as they came around Angel's Peak Joseph made a left towards Dutch's island instead of right towards the Valley. 

"Where are we going?" 

"We didn't get a chance to talk that night." 

Grace puzzled over this for a bit. Oh. The day she'd been taken, he'd had plans to come back and see her. 

"And I wish to speak with you before I set you loose upon John." There! A smirk. Maybe she was giving herself too little credit as far as her effect on him went. If they wanted privacy, Dutch's island was as good a place as any. He didn't have many visitors and it wasn't really a foothold of the Resistance, so it wasn't torn apart too much by Eden's Gate. There were only a handful of people wandering the place to begin with, so being seen together was not much of a risk. They passed by the radio tower and kept going, eventually parking the truck a ways down from the Silver Lake Conservation Area. They walked the rest of the way and nostalgia washed over her as she took in the first 'outpost' she'd liberated. Sure, there had only been like four peggies here at the time, but it was definitely her first victory. She hadn't really taken the time to come back here after it's initial liberation, so she made a mental note to drop by Dutch's again. 

Grace went ahead, searching the area for any squatters. When she found none she signaled Joseph it was all clear. The Ranger Station itself did not have any place to sleep, but there was a small cabin across the way next to the restroom facility. A sign hanging above the door read ' _Employee's Only_ ', and the side wall had around a dozen different license plates from different states nailed into the side. She tested the door and found it locked. Good thing one of the first skills she'd picked up here was how to pick a lock. 

Grace held out the flashlight she had taken from the dash compartment in the truck, gesturing for Joseph to hold it and aim it at the door for her. He had been looking around at the abandoned Ranger Station, at the furniture left on outside as if the peggies here hadn't had a chance to finish hauling the valuables off the property. That was partly her fault, but she wasn't willing to comment on it. She knelt down and pulled out her tools, sliding them into the lock and working her magic. In the dark it was hard to tell, but he looked amused - curious even, as he observed her. 

"Do you often break into locked places?" 

"If you want to sleep on the floor in the Ranger Station, be my guest." Grace retorted, doing a mostly silent victory 'whoop' as the lock tumblers clicked and released. 

The door swung open and they stepped inside, the light switch didn't work but that was no surprise. With Joseph's flashlight they took in what appeared to be an employee bunk room. There were bunk beds again the wall and two twin beds pressed up next to one another, as if pushed into the corner together to make room. She set down her pack and got to work lighting a lantern or two she'd found, while Joseph scrounged up most of the blankets and laid them out on the two twins beds. Heart fluttering, nerves creeping in at the implication, she cleared her throat and lobbed a few pillows onto the makeshift queen bed. It would be her only confirmation that she was okay with sharing a bed, not that he had asked. 

They were two grown adults, this was totally acceptable. The fact that she would be sleeping next to him tonight distracting her from whatever train of thought she had been on before, and it wasn't until she heard Joseph's voice that she realized that there was nothing left to do and she'd been pacing in the space between the bunks and their bed. 

"Grace." 

"Oh! Right. Good hustle. This will do for tonight." She nodded, stopping and placing her hands on her hips. Joseph had already sat his (shirtless) self down on the edge of the bed, looking at her like she had told him they should invite her parents up here for the weekend. 

"Grace, sit." He patted a hand on the spot next to him, and she hastily took her seat where he had gestured. Their thighs brushed against one another, the warmth of his bare skin felt so near. How did he manage to stay so warm with no shirt on? His proximity was doing nothing for her ability to think straight, but she could no more resist being next to him than a moth would to a flame. 

"You, ah, you said you wanted to talk." 

"Yes. About many things. We haven't had enough time." 

"We have time now. You mentioned something about setting me loose?" She offered up the conversation starter, smiling wryly and holding out her hand for him to take. A bold move considering her skyrocketing libido, but as he reached out and clasped his hand with hers she found it helped ground her. 

"You are right. I will start with John. He...is a troubled soul. I have been trying to show him a gentler path, but his demons are many. I would like to thank you for not...ending his life. He may not be well loved by anyone but Jacob and myself, but I still have hope for him."

It was tough to know what to say in response. There was a charm to John - and certainly some likability, but that was only reachable if you could get past the torturing, atonement's and horrific kidnappings. It was visible, but very far away. She remembered Joseph's voicemail, how he had seen John die young and die old, with the difference being how much love he let into his heart. Which reminded her.

"When we first ran into each other, you asked me why I left the Valley." 

He nodded and squeezed her hand. His encouragement did not give rise to any anger or feelings of being condescended to like they had in the beginning. It seemed such an immature reaction to have towards someone that she knew now only wanted to help her. 

"I heard your voicemail to John. At his ranch." She confessed, "It was the first time I considered the possibility that he was more than just an enemy to shoot down. I took one of his copies of your book and read it that night for the first time." It all came tumbling out, her realization that she had put everyone opposing her into a column and labelled them evil, not once considering them as multi faceted individuals. How soon after she had fled the Valley rather than face that idea, only to wind up in Joseph's path instead.

"So you decided one of your first rivals was worth leaving alone. That there was more to him than the sum of parts shown to you. That is telling of your strength, Grace. Of your wisdom. It must not have been a...easy decision to come to." 

"It wasn't. It felt like something was wrong with me. Imagine my surprise when I ran into you a month later. I don't consider myself very religious, but I couldn't keep chalking everything up to coincidence." She had begun absentmindedly running her thumb over his knuckles, her free hand reaching over to play with his rosary. The beads were smooth like glass, but weighed more like little stones between her fingers. 

"I'm not gonna go after him. But you know I won't stand by and watch people be hurt."

"You should come back with me. To my compound. Stay with me there." His voice had dropped to a hushed tone, leaning in closer to her, bringing his free hand over to clasp hers so that they were both held together between them. "If you join me, it will be a message to all. That they are welcome, that we may all go to Eden. You can help show them the Path, there would be no need for force. They trust you." 

She chuckled at his ambition and shook her head. "Probably not as much as you'd think, Joe. They didn't even trust me not to talk to you when I woke up from the bliss. They kept my radio away from me until I left." His brow furrowed, probably stifling lingering feelings of anger towards those she called her friends. Grace leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, comfortingly. "But I wish it would be that easy. That if people just stopped, trusted and listened, everyone could be happy." 

"Does that mean you believe in Eden's Gate, Grace? You told me you were not the devoted kind." 

"I'm not. But in the bliss… I saw you. You spoke to me, I saw- I don't know what I saw. The world burning. A mushroom cloud. It was so clear. You showed it to me." He opened his mouth to speak but she gave him a quick kiss to silence him, "I don't know if it was real or just some intense hallucination. But it terrified me." 

"You saw the vision. Homes on fire, death, everything destroyed. The Collapse of everything as we know it." He looked awed, gripping her hands tighter and pulling her forward towards him, pressing his forehead to hers as he kissed their joined hands. "The Voice has showed you, the very same vision I have had since I was a child. If you were shown...then loving you must be divine providence." 

Grace's eyes widened, inhaling sharply in response to his declaration. Did he just say he _loved_ her? She didn't have much time to analyze the warm burst of feeling swelling in her chest or the words he'd spoken, because he quickly closed the distance between them and took her lips with his own. There was no hesitation when she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his fervor. They each fiercely tried to convey the yearning that had built up between them. Grace let out a soft moan, feeling his tongue slip into her mouth and search hers out. She leaned back onto the bed, bringing him down with her as they became a tangled mass of limbs.

There was an overwhelming urge to close any space between them, feeling he was never close enough even though he was right atop her. Joseph was propped up on his elbows, their lips melding together and all that went through her mind was how she wanted _all_ of him, always _more_. Their legs tangled, their hearts beating against one another's rib cage. What right in the world did this man have to have such soft lips? They teased hers, drawing a sweet, warm sensation from between her legs. His body heat seeped through her shirt as her hands worked their way up to his top knot and paused at the hair tie, pulling back from his lips to ask him silently for permission. 

"You need not ask, my Grace." He whispered, leaning down to kiss at the sensitive skin of her neck, making her groan in approval. Her fingers gently tugged the tie free, letting it slide from her grip and fall away somewhere. She hadn't been able to tell what it would feel like, but now she relished the feel of the feather soft strands as her fingers ran through them. When he raised up again to seek out her mouth she cupped his jaw - stopping him to take in the sight of his hair framing his face, the muscles in his arms were tense as if he was holding back his intent to devour her. It seemed like millennia ago that he had first smiled at her and she'd wondered what he would look like this way. 

It was better than she could have imagined. 

Joseph reached out and gently pulled her braid forward, sliding off the tie at the end and beginning to thread his fingers through the twisted layers. Even just this innocent touch, combined with the feel of his weight atop her, made her shiver with want. He leaned forward and breathed in the scent of her hair much like he had earlier that day, her eyes rolling back as he massaged her scalp with one hand before trailing it through once more to straighten the now unbraided length.

He admired her long hair for a moment before taking her lips in an agonizingly slow kiss that made her want to squeeze her thighs together for some relief. Instead, since he was between her legs, she ground her hips up against him to feel more friction and he swallowed her moan as she felt his hardening length through his jeans.

Grace's hands left his hair to begin unbuttoning her shirt, her fingers hastily and clumsily working at them until Joseph grasped her hands and brought them to his lips, brushing them lightly over her knuckles. 

"Patience, my Grace. I am not going anywhere." He soothed, placing her hands flat on his chest. 

He methodically finished unbuttoning the last half of her shirt while her hands explored the expanse of his chest. Her fingers traced every scar, every tattoo. She circled one of his nipples and flicked it lightly, grinning up at him as he shuddered and opened her shirt, baring her front to him. His eyes roved over her breasts, her hardened nipples and down the flat valley of her stomach. 

"Angelic." He murmured slowly, reverently, leaning down and trailing kisses up the valley between her breasts. He nipped at her collarbone and bit down on the muscle between her neck and shoulder as she reached down and worked his belt loose. She was dizzy with him, his familiar scent of cedar and bergamot, the brush of his beard over her skin, his big hands warm as they took their turn exploring her skin. He soothed over the bites he'd gifted her with his tongue as if to kiss the tender skin all better. 

He left her neck and ventured lower, his warm breath on her skin the only warning she had before he took her nipple in his mouth and _sucked_. Grace moaned his name aloud for the first time into the empty bunk room. While his mouth was occupied with one breast, his rosaried hand came up and teased at the nipple on the other. She whined with need at the stimulation, managing to get past his belt and unzip his pants, slipping her hand inside and gripping his length in her hand. He hissed as his hips jerked forward into her palm, his cock was thick, hard, and smooth like velvet. 

"Please Joseph. I need…I _need_ -"

"Grace… I have _prayed_ for the day to savor you." 

Closing her eyes at the sound of her name on his lips, she writhed beneath him eagerly. Every caress, every look and brush of his lips was done as if he only had one chance to commit her to memory. Where her kisses hungered and begged, his were deep and slow - calming her hurry and building her need for him at the same time. Before she knew it they had kicked their shoes off and unbuckled her pants. Who had done what, and how they managed to barely take their hands off of one another in the process, was a blur. 

She lifted her hips as he hooked his fingers onto the hem of her pants and tugged them down, his eyes dark and wanton like the day he had pinned her up against a tree. That same desire showed now as he pulled away her jeans and underwear in the same motion. That day in the woods he had leashed himself, remaining tightly in control. Kneeling between her legs now as he spread them, looking at her exposed slit, pink and moist with the wetness their foreplay had earned… He closed his eyes and mouthed something she couldn't make out, and she knew there would be no leashing his lust this time.

Arching forward to kiss at the dip in her stomach below the notch in her rib cage, he gripped her knees much like he had earlier in the day, this time bringing them up and over his shoulders as his mouth worked it's way lower. Grace bit her lip as she realized his intentions, not many of her lovers having taken the time to do so, but his thorough exploration of her body was more than making up for those past injustices.

He kept her lower half raised up on his thighs as he brought his mouth closer to her weeping slit. Of course even in this he would position her in a way so he wouldn't have to take his eyes off of her, his hands firmly holding her hips to keep her steady. It felt like something preordained, watching Joseph in the lantern light bring his lips just over her core, an image that would forever be ingrained in her very being. Her inner walls clenched as he kissed around the apex of her thighs, breath teasing over her lips before delving between them with a deep swipe of his tongue. That was the only moment she observed where he allowed himself to close his eyes, albeit briefly, as he tasted her for the first time. She keened for him, pleading not with words but with wanton cries as he partook of her, tongue memorizing every twitch and shiver beneath it - teasing around her entrance before granting attention to her clit. 

After that Joseph kept his eyes locked onto hers as he pleasured her, and for the life of her she couldn't look away. Even as self conscious and exposed as it left her feeling, she was hopelessly lost in him. He took one hand off of her hip and slowly slid a longer finger inside her, stroking gently against her inner walls. It made her cunt clench, eager to be filled more, _more_. Grace bucked her hips reflexively against his face, hands reaching uselessly for something to hold onto before coming to her breasts. Grace took them in her hands and stroked her nipples, pinching and caressing them as it so pleased her. 

"M-more please… _Joseph, yes_..." She gasped, his eyes straying from her face to watch her contribute to her building climax. He sucked on the area just right of her clit, learning quickly that it had her legs trembling over his shoulders. As it turns out the Father was a quick study. He saw fit to reward her pleading by adding another finger inside her, pumping both of them slow and deep. A light sheen of sweat coated her now as the coil inside of her was wound tighter and tighter, his hands and mouth playing her like an instrument he'd known his whole life. 

His fingers curled inside against the spot that made her spine twitch and hips cant forward against his face. She could feel the warm flush of her own face, her heart racing as she chased the climax his worship brought her to. When she felt like she could take it no longer, when she came to that precipice, he moved his attentions just to the left - finally taking her nub into his mouth again and sucking hard, soothing it with caresses from his tongue after, repeating this over and over until she came apart under his ministrations with a cry of his name. 

He unhooked her legs from his shoulders and lowered her bottom half down to the mattress once more. Reeling from her orgasm, Grace caught her breath and watched as he stood up to remove his pants fully. She licked her lips as he unabashedly discarded his last article of clothing, his cock springing free and curving up towards his stomach. He was thick, and a bit longer than what was considered normal. His tip was beading precum from the pleasure he had taken from pleasuring her, evidence of that still glistening on his lips. He did not leave her for long, returning to bed and devouring her lips. She could taste herself on him. The mix of her essence with his natural taste must be her own form of ambrosia. 

Feeling his impressive length against her thigh a thought occurred to her, she pulled away and held onto his shoulders, leading him to lay on his back so that she could straddle his waist. He let himself be pushed back onto the mattress, looking up at her with adoration as he ran his hands up her thighs and let her get comfortable atop him.

"It's been…a long time. I want to…" Grace felt at a loss, a bit embarrassed and worried at not having laid with a man in a long while, coupled with her need to feel him within her. She was saved from any need for explanation by Joseph's hand coming up and cupping her cheek. He let his other rest upon her hip, thumb making small circles there comfortingly. That warm, full feeling she had felt earlier came back and made her heart skip a beat, her hips slowly rocking him between her folds, coating his length with her slick. 

She watched the rise and fall of his chest as she reached between them and took him in hand, guiding herself over him. He looked at her with awe as she sunk slowly down until the full length of his cock was seated within her. Grace braced her hands on his chest, it was a tight fit and it stung for a few moments as she adjusted to being filled again after so long. Joseph tensed forward for a moment as her heat took him in, mouth dropping open in a moan, twitching inside her as he kept himself still for her. He let her set the pace, gritting his teeth and panting heavily beneath her. His hand left her cheek to cup the weight of her breast, traveling lower to swipe his thumb over her clit. 

Grace rocked her hips gently, forward and back, sitting upright atop him as she worked her hips around his length and adjusted more to his size. When she was certain she could ride him the way she wanted to and not hurt herself, she raised her hips up and brought them down once more, starting to ride him. His moans were music to her ears, their heavy breathing and the obscene sound of their wet joining filling the previously unoccupied cabin. Joseph was the most beautiful thing she had laid eyes on, flush beneath her, gripping her hips tightly, moaning her name more times than she could count. 

"I'm so _full_ , Joe, you fill me _s-so_ good." She confessed, feeling his racing heart beneath her palm on his chest. He fit perfectly, stretching and filling her completely, like she was made for him and he for her. Later on she would blame these feelings on her lust addled mind, but it wouldn't be the truth. 

"For sin...shall no longer be your master." he pronounced softly, bending his legs and beginning to piston his hips up, pounding back into her as his eyes kept focus on hers. "For you are not under the law," he panted, feeling her tight cunt squeeze around him, rejecting the intrusion of his cock and pulling him back in at the same time. "...but under _Grace_." He hissed out, bringing one of her hands to her clit, silently urging her to pleasure herself while his hand returned to keep her steady on top of him as he continued to pound up into her. 

Grace rubbed at her clit, though not even needing the stimulation as his words washed over her. A combination of what he said and the sound of his voice making that familiar pressure build up in her core again, along with his hips snapping up to meet hers frantically, had her licking her lips and chasing the edge once more. 

"I'm gonna... _again_ , Joseph." She whispered brokenly, and both of his hands reached past her hips and took hold of her ass, squeezing and pressing her forward as he brought her second orgasm to her. Grace came with a cry, chanting his name like he was saving her. Before she had even finished, her cunt clenching and constricting around him as she came, he had flipped her over onto her back. He held the back of her thigh and pulled her leg up over his hip, keeping it there as he delved into her at a new angle. 

Grace gripped his shoulders as he took her with slower thrusts. When he pulled back it was patient and drawn out, before thrusting back in hard, hitting as far as he could go inside her. Like he needed to reach the deepest parts of her, needed to fill whatever emptiness she had inside of her with the essence of him. This was a slow, hard pace that matched who he was so perfectly. It dizzied her. She kissed his chest and his collar, trailing more up his neck and sought out his lips.

He kissed her back tenderly, adoration clear on his face. His thrusts became more erratic as he neared his own release. 

"Grace, _please_." He sounded almost pained, his brow furrowing as he pulled away from their kiss and stared into her eyes. 

"Anything." She could feel his cock stiffening, getting even warmer as he took pleasure inside of her wet heat. 

" _Take_ me." He pleaded. Instinctively she reached down to grab his ass, spreading her legs what little more she could and pushing her hips up into his to take him deeper, not allowing him to draw out as far. 

"Give it to me." She whispered in his ear, closing her eyes and sighing happily as he thrust into her three, four more times, feeling him spend himself deep inside her with her name on his lips.

He stayed on his elbows above her for a minute, catching his breath. They had both caught their breath and were properly sated when he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his side. His softening length slipped out of her but their legs remained tangled, holding each other close as they basked in their post coital bliss. 

She smiled at him, he smiled back softly. The cool night air drifted in from beneath the door and cooled the sweat on their skin. For who knows how long, they lay and look at one another, kissing each others hands and tracing each others scars. Her's were smaller and way fewer in comparison to his. He kissed her forehead when her eyes eventually started to droop, tucking her head beneath his chin. They drifted off to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms, hidden from the rest of the warring county.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooow so, um, this chapter was two times longer than I intended it to be.  
> I just couldn't help myself at the end, there.  
> I am going to hell.  
> Okbye :3


	14. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, because I can't stop writing :)

The two lovers slept peacefully that night, asleep in one another's arms until the sunrise came and went. It was the most restful sleep she'd had in a long time.

Eventually the chirping of birds and the sound of movement in the room made her stretch out under the covers, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Pouting at her reentry into the waking world, she reached around to feel for Joseph but met with only air. Realizing she was alone in the bed she sat up hastily, only to relax as she saw him standing near one of the bunk beds. He was still naked as the day he was born, and with his back to her she took a few moments to admire his backside before realizing he was breathing unevenly. The muscles of his back were tensed, his head hung forward while his hands were hidden from her sight. 

"Joseph?" 

His raised his head and turned back towards her, giving her a small smile which she returned her own sleepy version of. Grace was about to make a smart remark about naked preachers until he slowly turned to face her. The smile on her lips fell, replaced with a look of confusion that gradually turned to shock. In one of his hands was a bloody switchblade, and when he finished turning to face her she saw that his ' _LUST_ ' scar had been carved over itself again. The skin was red and the wound fairly fresh, blood dripping down his lower stomach. 

He hardly blinked, unruffled at his self inflicted mutilation.

"My Grace, good morning." 

"Oh my _God_! Joe, what did you do?" She cried out, scrambling out of bed still naked and grabbing his wrist. He didn't resist as she took the knife from his hands and threw it away from them onto the floor. She grabbed his hips and bent down to look at the angry, red carvings made over his previously healed ones. There was blood but she didn't know how long ago he'd done this, probably within the last half hour as she slept. 

"Our Lust, Grace." He watched calmly as she fussed, dismissive in the face of her surprise, "No matter if this was ordained, or of the love within me, sins must be atoned for." 

There were so many things racing through her mind but in the end she went into caretaker mode, ordering him to stay while she went to the truck to get her supplies. Grace dressed hastily as Joseph sat on the bed, clasping his hands together in prayer as if nothing unusual had happened. Which she supposed was the case for him, if the other marks on his body were any indication. Her mind was wide awake but her body protested the sudden rushing so soon after waking. 

Grace scurried out of the cabin, closing the door behind her and making her way to where they'd stashed the truck down the road. She half walked, half jogged, feeling like an idiot. Of course they couldn't just have a wonderful experience together without _something_ strange happening. Nothing was ever normal, not since she'd arrived months ago. She thought she had gotten used to all things Joseph, but he always found a way to prove her wrong. It kept her on her toes, literally, because she nearly tripped over the shoelaces she hadn't bothered to lace up when she shoved them on. Arriving at the truck, Grace unlocked it and leaned inside to grab her pack from the back seat. She hefted it over her shoulder as she locked it back up again and made her way back, sighing into the late morning air. 

Returning a minute or so later she took a quick look around the outside of the Ranger Station, checking the perimeter out of habit. The sun was bright, only a few scattered clouds, today would be a good day for fishi-- A gleam caught her eyes, distracting her and interrupting her train of thought. It was there and gone in a second, stopping her in her tracks. Curiously she took a step or two straight back until the gleam caught her eye again. Deciding to let Joseph wait a little longer as she approached the direction it had come from, she was led to a tree off to the side of the station. Grace froze mid-stride and felt the breath whoosh out of her. 

Nestled between the branches of a pine overlooking the outpost was a small black security camera. 

Fuck. _Fuck_! There would have been no gleam last night for her to notice, no sunlight to bounce off the lens. She hadn't been here in so long she completely forgot that Dutch had his _entire_ island rigged with security cameras that fed footage to his bunker. She was wrong, 'idiot' wasn't a strong enough word to describe her. Her heart constricted with worry, was he awake last night to see her and Joseph? Did the cameras even have night vision? Probably. Hell, he could be seeing her right now. Grace shoved her panic down, refusing to get herself worked up when she didn't know if they'd been caught. Thank God the employee bunk room had no windows. 

Turning around she fast walked back into the bunk room and closed the door, locking it for good measure. If Joseph was concerned at her precaution he did not voice or show it. She deposited her pack on the bed, fishing out a first aid kit and leading him to stand in front of her as she sat on the edge of the mattress. Opening up the kit she looked the cuts over, relieved that it seemed to look worse than it actually was. It had probably hurt like hell to do, though. The blood was still wet but at least the slices weren't that deep and so the flow of bleeding had halted already. Grace took out antibiotic gel, antiseptic wipes and bandages, thankful she wouldn't need to give any stitches. 

Like most things involving Joseph, not even tending to his wounds was particularly easy. He hadn't bothered to put his pants on while she had been out, so that left her sitting in front of his... Well. It was difficult to ignore as she wiped the blood away, trying to keep her sight focused on the wound and not his manhood beneath it. Grace sighed, he didn't even flinch as she cleaned and disinfected his injury. She wasn't sure why she should be feeling so modest, when he had spent most of last night inside of her… No. Grace willed herself not to rile herself up by remembering last night. He had done this to himself _because_ of last night. 

"Why did you need to do this, Joseph?" She asked irritably, putting the antiseptic wipes away and reaching for the gel. When she raised it up to apply it, he stopped her hand and took it from her, setting back down in the kit along with the bandages. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she tilted her head back to look at him, at his height he seemed to tower over her as she sat on the bed. His hand came up to thread through her hair, the silken strands sliding through his fingers.

"Because I gave in to my Lust for you. You gave in to Lust. And we must atone." 

He had said something similar earlier but this time she bristled, offended at the implication that spending the night with her meant they had done something wrong. But she couldn't even be mad at that when she was freaking out herself about the idea that Dutch possibly knew. And what did he mean that she would have to atone? 

" _We_ must atone?" She mimicked. Standing up from the bed, she made him take a step back to give her room to rise. Which he did. Just barely. "We didn't do anything wrong, Joe! What, was this a one and done deal? Atone and move on?" Her arms gestured wildly as her temper getting the best of her. Like in all things, Joseph met her anger with composed serenity. He rested his hands on her shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he patiently explained again. 

"It was not wrong, for God has made you for me. And it will happen again, as it is meant to. But I will see us ready for Eden. There are no bonds of matrimony between us, after all."

Grace let herself calm slightly at his agreement that being together was not wrong, but her emotions were still taken on a roller coaster with every declaration after that. Them being meant to be, that it would be repeated, going to Eden and not being married. The last bit was such an old-school notion that it had completely slipped her mind - just like the cameras had. Joseph was religious, and utterly devoted. If she kept seeing him would he try and get her to marry him? She blinked and gave her mind time to settle as she tried the organize her jigsaw puzzle of thoughts. 

"I-Joe, I don't know about destiny or any of...that," She rationalized, feeling skittish as she thought about what other parts of their lives he had in store. Hadn't he admitted he _loved_ her the night before? She maneuvered around him and went by the door where his pants lay discarded, "but you shoul--" 

For the second time that day she was interrupted, Joseph coming up behind her and snaking his arms around her. They traveled under the hem of her shirt and the warmth of his hands making her train of thought come to a screeching halt. He caressed her stomach and brushed along the underside of her breasts. Grace felt his chest press flush against her back as he surrounded her, and she did not have enough self control not to lean back into him. His hand was right over it, so he must be able to feel the hammering of her heart in her chest. 

"You do not believe God has meant for us to be together?" He whispered conspiratorially in her ear, sweeping her hair over her opposite shoulder and taking the lobe between his teeth, teasing at it. She swallowed and tried to formulate a sentence as his hands began unbuttoning her shirt, his mouth leaving her ear to kiss the sensitive skin just beneath it.

"I-I… I'm not sure…" She breathed, shivering as the front of her shirt fell open, exposing her to his eyes again. Joseph's hands slid the material off of her shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the floor near his pants. The warmth of his hands upon her breasts immediately after made her moan, letting her head fall back against his shoulder as he tweaked and circled her nipples. Her back arched, pushing her chest further into his hands. He was fully erect behind her now, his length pressing into the cleft of her ass. 

"I can show you again, Grace, how well we fit together." 

How was this man a preacher? She would have to reconsider her whole image of pious church goers. She felt her arousal pool between her thighs, becoming restless in his arms as he gave her breasts a final caress and moved back down her stomach towards the waist of her jeans. He ran his tongue over the juncture between her neck and collar before pulling the skin in to his mouth, biting and sucking. Grace would figure out a way to cover up the hickey he was making later, not willing to stop him if it meant he finished unbuttoning and unzipping her pants faster. 

Joseph kissed at the now bruising spot on her neck, soothing it with his tongue before pulling his head away. He walked her forward, just a few paces, until they got closer to the locked door to the cabin. His hands took hold of hers, leaning her forward to place them flat palmed against the wood of the door. Excitement and anticipation shook through her, thighs squeezing together as she was bent forward in front of him. The whole 'made for each other' thing was seeming less intimidating by the minute. And hadn't she been arguing him on something?

His fingers skimmed her thighs as he brought her jeans down, tapping each foot for her to lift up as he removed them completely and discarded them to the side. In her hurry earlier she hadn't bothered to put her panties on, and she could feel him grinning against her skin as he trailed slow kisses up the backs of her thighs. Standing back up he slid a leg between hers, using it to spread them wider for him. Grace licked her lips and looked over her shoulder back at him, an intense look fixated on her as he leaned down and gave her a heated kiss. Before he could pull away she swiped her tongue against his bottom lip and gave it a playful nip, making his hands grip her hips tightly. 

Joseph left her mouth and knelt down behind her again, bringing himself level with her wet slit. He tutted as he spread her lips and ran a finger through her slick. 

"So needy, Grace." He nipped at her inner thigh, returning the favor. 

Grace moaned in satisfaction as he leaned in without warning to taste her upon his tongue. He prodded at her entrance and flicked his tongue near her clit, but as soon as he was there he was gone again. Pressing his chest to her back once more, he braced one hand on the wall next to hers, lining himself up to her entrance with the other. He slid his cock against her sex, wetting himself with her arousal and dragging the warm tip of his cock in circles around her entrance. 

His teasing would have been frustrating if not for his ragged breathing giving away his desire for her. It was as much for himself as it was for her. His head dragging against her felt so good, her walls clenching, wishing there was something to clench around. Impatiently she bucked her hips back against him, trying to slip him inside of her. He chuckled and stilled himself, holding the bulb of his tip pressed right at her opening. Grace cursed him silently, he was waiting for something. He had the patience of a saint, if she didn't give him what he wanted he would drive her crazy with no release.

" _Now_ , Joseph, please!" She begged. 

Before she even finished speaking he had hilted himself inside of her with one hard thrust. The moans of gratification that left her mouth were nothing short of sinful. Flush against her back, he leaned forward over her so that he could twine their fingers together against the wall. 

"Feel how I fill you? So perfect." He hissed near her ear, keeping himself buried inside her, stretching her open and filling her as far as her body would allow him to. Her nails scratched the wood of the door as she fought with herself to deny how impossibly right he was. She felt complete with him seated within her, a deep ache filled, no doubt in her mind as to whether or not they should be doing this. 

He rocked his hips into her twice, riding her, keeping her within his strong frame. Grace whimpered and pushed her hips back into him, needing more movement, the teasing alone having brought her halfway to her first release. Luckily he did not keep himself or her waiting any longer, drawing back and sliding in just as deep again. He claimed her slowly, almost lazily, rubbing the walls of her cunt with his cock. Content to savor every inch of her surrounding his length. Goosebumps rose on her skin as he strung out their pleasure. 

Grace could hear and feel him pant against her neck as he took her, the sound of his guttural moans and the slapping of their skin echoing in the small space driving her closer to her salvation.

"Yesss, oh _God_ Joe…" She pleaded, tightening her fingers around his hand as they held onto one another, giving and taking, both spurring the other towards that coil of raw need. Helping it build. 

His thrusts came faster now, every slam of his hips pushing her roughly forward, but he was right against her keeping her steady. She practically cooed as he hit that sweet spot inside her, gasping his name breathlessly like a mantra. It was then that she felt a wetness different than the one between her thighs, it felt slightly warm against her lower back and she almost hadn't noticed it. Her mouth dropped open as she realized she hadn't bandaged up his cuts. That trickles of blood from his ' _LUST_ ' carving were seeping onto her, bleeding again as he fucked her senseless. Grace closed her eyes and pushed it to the back of her sex addled mind, there was no way she would tell him to stop taking her. Not when it didn't seem to bother him in the least.

"Grace, my Grace...let me fill you." He groaned, pleading even though they both knew she couldn't deny him. She turned her head to the side and kissed him deeply as he pounded into her, it made it a messy kiss but she had an overwhelming need to feel his lips upon hers as her orgasm rocked through her. Her toes curled and her cunt contracted around his cock. He followed shortly after, both of them swallowing each others moans as they found their release. He came within her trembling walls as they milked him, cock twitching and pulsing until he'd spent the last thick ropes of his seed inside her. 

They remained propped against the wall until they caught their breath. Grace's spread legs trembled as he softened inside her, a trickle of his cum escaping down her inner thigh. Joseph pulled out of her and kissed her shoulders reverently, his hands leaving hers as they stood upright once more. She turned around unsteadily to wrap her arms around him, always feeling affectionate after an amazing climax. He held her close and breathed her in, running a hand up and down her bare back. 

"A perfect fit." He murmured, kissing her forehead and pulling back. She had no argument for him. 

\----- 

An hour later found Grace at a random abandoned house, showering vigorously before she headed to Rae Rae's and got a car to drive to Fall's End. She washed her hair thoroughly before scrubbing at her body, thoughts drifting as she rinsed the traces of their lovemaking from between her thighs. She had used to be on birth control before everything went kaput, not that she'd had a very active sex life. But she hadn't been on it since all the madness began. That was months ago. And Joseph...she'd let him...she'd _wanted_ him to fill her. 

She sighed, not giving the thought too much credence, because she didn't get her period half the time anymore. With all of this stress and chaos that surrounded her she was willing to bet she wasn't the most fertile woman around. When she was all finished she left the shower and dried off, dressing herself and leaving the house with her supply pack. She could gather her thoughts about the whirlwind that morning had been as she walked to the pumpkin farm. 

Joseph had alluded to her needing to atone for their 'sin' as they redressed themselves and gathered their things, but he made no move to act on it at that time. She'd walked tensely beside him back to his truck, her eyes scanning the trees for any other hidden cameras. There was no need to tell Joseph about them, really, because he wasn't the one apprehensive of...whatever this was between them. But on some level he knew the trouble it would bring her if her allies knew, so for her he tried. For her he had frequency thirty three. 

Her problem was not that she was horrified of confession or atonement, in fact if she had observed anything it was that it was very simple if one was willing, but very painful and difficult if you weren't. When she first came across the Father she had been terrified of him, feeling somehow that he wanted to tear her apart for her sins rather than cleanse her of them. She thought that those two things would be one in the same, that he would try and destroy her. Over time Joseph himself had shown her that she was wrong through his actions, Hope County could not be patiently coaxed into believing the end of the world was coming, but he had taken an exception with her - grounding her as everything fell apart around them. 

Grace wouldn't have believed it herself if she hadn't seen it. The Collapse. Even after being out of the bliss for a while and looking back on her hallucination, she couldn't bring herself to claim it wasn't real at all. It had struck a nerve in her, nagged at her heart as if something was telling her to pay attention. What had Joseph said last night? To see more than the sum of parts shown to her. If they weren't so bent on forcing salvation then Grace wouldn't have any qualms with Eden's Gate. It was their methods and their violence that bothered her, and with the faith she was slowly coming around to, maybe she could mediate a more peaceful end. 

She found it funny that she had left the Valley a shaken mess, only to return more collected than she'd felt in months. Beliefs aside, if she had any sense at all she would go back to Dutch's island and pay him a visit - to know for sure whether or not he had been watching _those_ specific camera feeds at _that_ specific time of night. Grace had thanked him for saving her life and giving her the know-how to start taking on Eden's Gate, but after she had left his island they hadn't really talked and she made no trips back to visit. It was pretty scummy of her, but in her defense she had been pretty busy trying to get the county back to normal. And there were other things she needed to do right now. 

As Rae Rae's came into sight she ran the remaining distance to it, waving at the Resistance members there. She had been on bed rest for so long, either tucked away in a cabin or at the jail, and it felt good to be around people again. They smiled and returned the wave when they noticed her, clapping her on the back and rambling about having the Henbane under control. They had no idea everything that had been happening with her while that had gone on, but that was okay. Grace would remain the Deputy that residents looked to for hope. Everyone seemed to be revved up with fresh enthusiasm and she wasn't about to buzzkill anyone. 

Grace made sure to keep her combat knife, a bow and her silenced 1911 on her just in case she wound up needing to defend herself or anyone else. Buying a few smoke grenades and throwing knives (they came in handy for the oddest things), she was still firmly on a last resort basis as far as killing went. She had spent so long wishing there was a less violent way to do things when she could have started to take this step from the start. Just another thing she had been wrong about. Becoming known as the peggie killing Deputy, when she should have not let her anger get the best of her. John had been right. She was wrathful. 

Finishing up greeting everyone, happy to be back in the Valley, she hopped in one of the stashed jalopy's and drove to Fall's End. New itinerary, get debriefed by Mary May and the others, then head to Seed Ranch. Everything felt different to her now, she didn't feel so lost anymore. It all seemed clear. Joseph, in his own weird way, had helped her find herself. 

Turning on the radio, she smiled and laughed as ' _Oh John_ ' began to play, glad there was no Resistance companion there to tell her to change the channel as she turned it up. Grace rolled the windows all the way down, breathing in the bliss-free air and sticking her arm out the window to wiggle her fingers as the wind passed through them. She resolved for this to be a turning point for everything. She wouldn't lie back and do nothing like Joseph wanted, and she wouldn't kill her way to victory like the Resistance did. 

She had left the Valley avoiding him, but she wasn't going to run anymore. It was time to speak with the Baptist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so overwhelmingly supportive of this work, thank you all so much! I am thinking of taking prompts for this piece, so if you want add me on tumblr: bakabeccaa


	15. Observer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some plot ya filthy animals <3

Grace arrived at Fall's End a little after noon, pulling up outside the Spread Eagle and moseying on in. Mary May's face lit up as she walked through the doors, coming around the bar to envelope Grace in a hug. She smiled, genuinely happy to see the barkeep again. Mary May and Nick Rye had been the some of first friends she'd made in her time here. From the start Grace loved her attitude and caring nature, spending most of her nights at this bar shooting the shit. When she stole back The Widowmaker from the cult, Mary's father's truck, she was offered the spare room upstairs. 

Mary told her that Pastor Jerome was busy at the church, lending a hand to the Resistance and helping the people of Fall's End. They spent the rest of the hour sitting at the bar catching up, Grace filling her in on how the liberation of the Henbane went. According to Mary May, most people in the Valley thought that Faith's death had been her doing. It didn't seem possible to tell people that Joseph had taken the life of one of his own Heralds, not without explaining how she had come to learn that information. For now she could only shake her head and deny the claim, switching the topic to John retaking his ranch. 

When they finished up their talk Grace excused herself and made her way upstairs to her room. It was just the way she left it, most of her belongings in a trunk at the end of her bed. She knelt down in front of it and opened it up to look through its contents: articles of clothing thrown in haphazardly, her wallet, an old ball cap with a pair of reflective red sunglasses, a crusty old tennis ball she used to play fetch with Boomer, a slingshot she never used, along with an assortment of ammunition and cash stashed at the bottom just in case. Very telling of what her priorities had been last she was here. She remembered her last night spent here, sitting alone reading the Book of Joseph. What if she had never read it, never listened to that voicemail? There were so many invisible threads all tangled together to lead to where she was now.

She took out a change of clothes and left everything else untouched, though it felt strange to see her wallet forgotten in a bed trunk. But it was very apparent early on that she wouldn't need it, no peggies were pulling her over to ask for her driver's license, and any cash she needed was kept in her pack. It was a whole different world here in Hope County, and just the sight of her old leather wallet made her realize that all over again. 

With a start she remembered stashing the book here and leaving it, so she went over to the bed set her clothes down - flipping back the bed sheets, lifting the mattress up and searching around for it. Her hand didn't come into contact with anything so she lifted it even more to see for herself, but there was nothing there. With a huff Grace let it down again and tugged the sheets back into place. 

"Looking for this?" 

She spun around and saw Armstrong standing in the doorway, holding up the book she'd been searching for. Grace hadn't even heard her approach, noticing the sniper looked as serious as she always did. Except there was no glint of humor in her eye that she was used to seeing, just skepticism and an unspoken question. She set her jaw, looking at the black Eden's Gate cross on the cover and knowing that the only way she would have found that book was to search through her room. 

She remembered Armstrong's hesitant wave, never getting a visit from her while she was recovering, and them arguing the previous night when she wouldn't join them at Faith's Gate. She wasn't sure why, but things were tense between them, so when she answered she opted for a neutral tone in lieu of a familiar one. 

"What brings you here, Grace?" 

Armstrong tilted her head, stepping further into the room and looking her up and down, eyes stopping on her neck. Shit balls, her hickey. She lifted the collar of her shirt up higher and quirked a questioning brow at her friend. 

"No 'how did destroying the bunker go?' Not curious?" No comment on the bruise, thankfully.

"I heard you guys succeeded. I knew you'd be fine. Congrats." She said dryly. "But that doesn't tell me why you're here." 

"Fine, no small talk. After we destroyed Faith's bunker," A pause, "no thanks to you, I came back here to find you. But you weren't here." 

"So you decided to _search_ through my room, then? What in the world were you expecting to find?" She said exasperatedly, shrugging her shoulders in disappointment. It wasn't too long ago that they had been partners, taking most of this Valley together. This was what war did, even on this scale, it made everyone distrustful. She hated it. 

"I don't know. Definitely not this peggie scripture _bullshit_!" Armstrong countered loudly, tossing the book at her. She caught it before it could slam into chest, furrowing her brow in confusion. When had Armstrong ever been this angry with her before? 

"It's here because I obviously fucking _read_ it! Know your _goddamn_ enemy, Grace." She couldn't hide how insulted she felt, did she think that Grace was a damned sleeper agent for the cult or something? After liberating John's ranch she felt a curiosity to read about the Seed's, to know what drove them and what they valued. In the end it also helped humanize them in her eyes, but that wasn't something Armstrong would want to hear right now. The book felt heavy in her hands. 

For a minutes they stood there, sizing each other up silently. Weighing the loyalties of each other in the small bedroom over the bar.

"I dunno what's goin' on up there, but you two stop fightin' ya hear?" Mary May called up the stairs. Armstrong broke eye contact first, turning without another word and leaving her room. Grace let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, sitting down on the mattress and trying to deduce what could have her friend up her ass all of a sudden. Except for the fight they had last night, there was nothing that would have given away her...whatever it was that she had with Joseph. No one had known where she had been staying in the Henbane, those at the jail assumed he wanted to take her to punish her, and besides the looming threat that Dutch may have seen them walking on his camera feed last night, there was no other evidence. 

Maybe this was all a doomed effort. Deciding to build a relationship with the crazy cult leader she had sworn to apprehend. Not one of her friends would ever accept it, sometimes even she doubted her sanity. Some of her happy mood from earlier dissipated as she sat alone in her room. In the end, be it the Collapse or the end of this civil war, it would be her friends or Joseph. But she didn't want to spiral down that line of thinking, not yet. Not until she had to. For now she would just savour this semblance of peace she had found within herself. 

"You okay?" Grace's head shot up, looking at Mary May standing in the doorway. 

"Yeah, I'm good. I don't know what her issue is, lately." She trailed off, following Mary's gaze down to the book still in her hands. 

"Wanna talk about that?" 

"No. Not really. Grace found it in here, I took it over a month ago to read it. Curiosity and all that. Think she got the wrong idea." She wasn't ashamed of the fact she had it, or had read it. But she knew she couldn't just hold on to it without it seeming odd, so she stood up and opened the window in her room, giving it a hard toss out into the beyond. 

"Sometimes you gotta know your enemy to kill em'. I don't blame ya. It's not like you got a cult logo branded on your forehead." 

Grace laughed and nodded, feeling lighter already. That would definitely suck. She didn't know what Armstrong's deal was, but when she was ready hopefully she would talk about it with her. 

"There is something else I wanted to talk about, though. It slipped my mind earlier. Got a minute?" 

"All the time in the world for you, Rook." Mary May came over and sat next to her on the bed. She smelled like that cleaner she used to keep the bar top clean, and dandelions. With a deep breath, Grace launched into explaining how all of the bloodshed was getting to her. How miserable she had been in the Henbane, how her nightmares were plaguing her and she felt more lost with every bullet. She worded her explanation carefully, not wanting to sound like she was disagreeing with the Resistance. Mary May was a saint, nodding and letting her speak, and giving her another hug once she was finished. She stroked her hair and patted her back, her understanding and comfort making tears well up in Grace's eyes. 

"I understand, honey. I'd never fired a gun at somebody until this cult shit started. Don't you worry, I will talk to Jerome and Nick. There are surely other things that you can help us with for a bit that don't involve killin'. Even if those bastards deserve it." Mary May went to pull back from the hug, but Grace held tighter, silently pleading for one more minute. They stayed that way until Grace was ready to head back out, after they had drink first, of course. 

\----- 

In her escape from Holland Valley not only had she run from her responsibility to deal with John Seed, but she had left someone else behind, too. Joey Hudson, a fellow officer who was in charge of training her when she arrived. The chance for that had never happened. 

This would be her next move in setting things right, both with herself and others she had let get hurt. It was time to be the protector she always tried to be, not a murderer atop her pile of enemies. Which was why she had snuck onto Seed Ranch's property by passing through Rye & Sons Aviation to reach it. Now she was nestled up in a tree a long distance away, clad in her regular black jeans and a new, less smelly shirt with a black hoodie. It was a size or two too large, but kept her hidden in the shade of the tree. Testing out her binoculars as she scouted the ranch, she took note of the amped up security outside of it. Grace wasn't here to take it back, just to talk. It was his house after all, having come to the conclusion that taking people's homes was something the cult did, not her. She had to keep her distance because walking up to the front doors would result in them firing on sight, bloodshed wasn't her aim anymore. 

Grace watched from afar, trying to get a good look into the windows of the ranch, keeping an eye out for John. He was most likely there, all of his lackey's were standing ramrod straight and keeping extra vigilant, which meant the big boss was around. She knew the peggies kept tabs on the Fall's End frequency, but she didn't want their conversation to be for the whole Valley to hear. She took out her radio and fiddled with the dial.

"Deputy Rook calling for John Seed, come in." She tested, repeating herself on a variety of different frequencies and getting a myriad of responses. Some of them were silent and most were answered by people telling her where John Seed and anyone who talked to him could shove it. Grace could probably radio up Joseph and ask him, but found she enjoyed the lengthy approach where she got to be resourceful. Besides, she tried not to bring up Resistance work in her conversations with Joseph, with the exception of her near breakdown at Jessop's. She kept an eye on the ranch with her binoculars in one hand and held her radio up with the other, looking for any sign that they got one of her transmissions. 

"John Seed this is Deputy Rook. Come in." She tried, finally getting the physical response she was looking for from one of the peggies patrolling the deck. Grace watched him fumble with his radio, at a loss for a second about what to do, so she repeated herself. This time he ran inside and she couldn't keep track of him anymore. Finally. Now all she had to do was wait. 

Sure enough, a minute later her radio crackled to life and a familiar voice came through. 

"My my, little Miss Wrath." He sounded way too pleased for his own good. 

"Hello, John." 

"I knew it would be a matter of time before sought me out again."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

"You know me, I'm straight up obsessed with you. What are you wearing?" 

"That tongue is going to get you into trouble." 

"Oh? Was I not in trouble already? After all this time? That's nice. That's real nice." It was too fun to prod at him, he was the most responsive of the Seed brother's. 

"Why don't you tell me where you are?"

"Nah, this is fine. I had some questions for you."

"We can have this talk face to face. I'll make us some tea." 

"Not a chance, John. You gonna listen, or what?" 

"...I see. Well, you certainly have my attention, Deputy." 

The man that had ran inside with his radio returned to his post, the rest of the security mulling around normally with no sign of alarm. 

"Tell me about confession. About atonement." 

"My word, have you called to confess? This _is_ a delight my dear." 

"Just tell me." Silence. She sighed and added a grumbled, "...Please." 

"Since you asked so nicely." He drawled, "But surely you know already, Deputy, that the sinner is baptized anew and called upon to confess their sins before myself and God. To follow the Father's path. Then I etch those sins upon their flesh so that it may be exposed, and they will wear their truth for all to see until the time for atonement. And when that time comes, that sin is dashed from their bodies and they are born anew for Eden's Gate." 

He was right, she had known most of this. The first time she'd caught a bliss bullet she had woken up in the middle of her own baptism. John had almost drowned her before Joseph stopped him, and hell, she'd gotten her own sin tattooed on her chest by him two weeks later. Thankfully he hadn't gotten the chance to reach the flaying stage of her redemption. Nick hadn't been so lucky.

"Is there a difference if the sin is inked on or cut on? I've seen people with both." She was trying to understand Joseph's actions that morning, which was only a few hours ago but seemed so far away now. She could still picture the bloody switchblade and fresh cuts, his serene expression. In the end he hadn't let her put bandages over it, which fit the whole agenda of keeping sin exposed. 

If her sudden curiosity was throwing him off, he didn't seem willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. Plus he probably loved hearing himself talk. 

"No, it doesn't matter. As long as the sin is exposed." 

"Yours aren't cut off. You can dish it out but you can't take it?" She goaded, knowing the real reason. 

"Easy now, Deputy… Are you afraid? You don't need to be. To rid yourself of your sin is a beautiful process, I will pour that fear inside of you and it will be torn out as you atone. It is more painful for the unwilling, but necessary. All you need to do is say yes."

"Yes." 

There was silence. A beautiful stretch of seconds where she got not reply from the Baptist. Before this went any further Grace allowed herself to laugh with her hand off the receiver as she imagined the stunned look on that pretty face. It was refreshing for _him_ to be the one caught off guard for a change. Adjusting her position in the tree, she gave it a few more seconds before she'd assume he passed out cold. 

"Still with me, John?" 

"...Are you agreeing to confession?" 

"I am saying _yes_ , John. With one condition." 

"And what, pray tell, would that be?" The excitement in his voice made her shudder, and she heard movement on his end before he'd finished his sentence. Her eyes scanned the expanse of the ranch with her binoculars, trying to match the sound of movement with the sight of it. She finally stopped on the front porch doors as they swung open. There he was in that stupid airplane jacket, sunglasses pushed atop his head. John Seed walked quickly down the front steps with two built looking peggies following behind him, both armed to the teeth. He had one hand scratching his chin and the other held his radio up. 

"I think you know, John. Hudson. I want you to release Hudson." 

He chuckled, unaware that she was watching him from over one hundred meters away.

"Or I can just send my men out to get you, now that you have returned. You are familiar with being marked, yes?" 

Grace smiled, oh the memories. There were in fact three different times John had marked her, she felt like she should have a membership card or something that got her torture discounts. But she had a feeling they wouldn't be able to find her in a random tree in their backyard, so she didn't worry. 

She schooled her tone into an eerie calm to emulate Joseph's, perfected by all the time she'd been spending with him. "Of course you could. But John. I want you to listen very closely." 

He stopped mid walk across his front lawn, placing a hand on his hip as he waited. His impatient was visible.

"If you don't, then the doors of Eden will be shut to both of us." She impressed herself with her lack of apprehension, especially considering the fact that she actually believed the words. Saving Hudson was something she should have done long ago, a mistake she would correct. And the night of her 'baptism', Joseph had said John would not make it to Eden if Grace did not reach her atonement. They both wanted this. She told him as much and leaned back against the bark of the tree, awaiting his response. 

John stood shaking his head, not looking so amused anymore. He looked off into the distance, contemplating, before raising his radio up again. 

"How would we go about this?" 

"A trade off. Bring Hudson alive to the dock west of US Auto. I'll be there. I won't bring anyone else with me."

"Why should I trust you, Deputy? And what's to stop me from just taking you both back with me?"

Grace lowered her binoculars, remembering the first night she had ran into Joseph. He had asked her something similar. It hadn't been clear to her, then, but it was now. 

"I have faith, John." 

He put away his radio with no reply, probably unsure as to whether or not she was mocking him. Grace kept watch until he had gotten into a car with his bodyguards and drove off into the distance. Finally climbing her way back down the tree, she stretched and waited for feeling to return to her ass. Always the price of a long stake out. Switching over her frequency she doubled back towards the Rye's to where she had parked her car. 

"Joseph, I need a favor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, the next chapter might take a bit longer because I fully intend to lose myself in New Dawn!


	16. Relinquish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished New Dawn and I am just wracked with feelings. But now I'm ready to go back in time and continue Joseph and Grace's story :)

The drive to US Auto was quiet after she ended her conversation with Joseph, even keeping the car radio off for once. Grace was on her way to turn herself in to John Seed, something she never thought she would find herself doing. Especially since the last time she was near this outpost was when she had taken it upon herself to destroy his gigantic ' _YES_ ' sign up in the mountains behind it. Good times. 

Grace felt calm despite what she was about to put herself through, a little nervous about the pain, but not too much. If she could survive bullets, explosions and cougar attacks then she could handle the needle of a tattoo gun. By no means had this been an easy decision to come to, despite the carefree mask she tended to default to. After the events of that morning she just couldn't get Joseph's expression out of her head. He had hurt himself, but looked for all the world be at peace. It had freed him, somehow. When she had first come to know the cult she found the whole 'tattooing your sin' thing crazy. Maybe it was. But she had wanted to confess for some time now and had just been too afraid to do it. Too proud. She had her own faith now, knew what must be done to start doing this the correct way. 

Grace had also reread Joseph's book enough times to remember a certain something as she was deciding to do this. Something that made the prospect of atonement less intimidating. 

The world might be coming to an end as she knew it in the Collapse, or the next bullet aimed at her might hit a vital spot and it would all be over. Who knows if she would ever escape this place? The tunnels leading to and from the county were collapsed, and even if she commandeered a plane that could make it over the mountains, she just couldn't see herself leaving everyone behind. So, while this was her reality, she would take making reparations seriously. Using John to try and forgive herself didn't seem so crazy when she thought of it like that. 

She wouldn't let herself become a guilt ridden zombie. Wouldn't pretend that there weren't steps she could take to change how things were, instead of pretending that who she had to be was determined for her by circumstance. 

It would also put her right back in his bunker where she could scope things out more than she'd gotten to last time. 

After she pulled into US Auto she gave everyone a quick greeting before hurrying into the large garage, making a beeline for the office to stash her travel pack and valuables in the safe there. The only things she would keep with her were her radio, her knife and her pistol. She had every insane intention of going willingly, so there was no sense in taking anything dear to her that would get just get confiscated. Spinning the combination on the safe, Grace left and made her way through the forestry to their designated meeting spot. She still had some time if John had to go to all the way to his bunker to get Hudson and then head back here, so she was able to casually convince some fishing bystanders to leave the area while she hunted a 'stray cougar'. 

Another half hour passed as she stood on the small wooden dock, hands in her pockets as she waited. It really was a nice day, she watched the water's surface for rising air bubbles and jumping fish, fighting the urge to jump in and swim. Nature endured while chaos continued around it, soon she would be down in a dark bunker and this place would still be peaceful as night fell. There wasn't anything quite like looking up at the big expanse of blue sky, she would try to remember the sight long after it had disappeared from her sight. When she heard the distant sound of cars stopping further out near the road Grace took a deep breath and turned around. She wanted to watch the trees to be able to catch sight of John and whoever he had brought with him right away. 

He didn't keep her waiting, emerging from the south, walking ahead of the two lackey's she'd seen him leave the ranch with. His expression was cautious but predatory, not quite trusting her but too obsessed with capturing the infamous Deputy to not come. Idly she wondered how much of his need to get her was personal and how much was wanting to please Joseph. 

John stopped a good distance from her and as his two guards came closer she was able to see Hudson between them. Each of her arms were held tightly by the two peggies, her hands tied together in front of her and a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Thankfully she looked no worse for wear than when he had first aired that ridiculous ' _Power of YES_ ' video to every television he could, her mascara running down her cheeks from the times she had cried. 

Grace remembered how put together she had seemed the night they went to arrest Joseph. It stung to see her like this. 

"All alone, Deputy?" 

She snorted, "You callin' me a liar?" 

He studied her for a moment before motioning them to bring Hudson forward, patting her head as she thrashed against her captors.

"She has been stubborn. I kept her atonement on hold for when the day came where you both could reach it together. But you and I have made a _deal_ , Deputy. And as full of sin as you are I expect you to honor it." 

"Right back at ya." 

John had apparently not mentioned anything about their trade off to Hudson, because she was looking between the two of them like they had sprouted second heads. She started shaking her head 'no' and making muffled pleading sounds towards Grace, but she kept her eyes off of Hudson and locked onto John's. He was probably hoping she would try something stupid just so he got to use unnecessary force, but she had no intention of giving him the pleasure, simply raising her hands up in surrender.

With a new gleam in his eye, excitement maybe, he stepped forward and smirked at her. One of the guards used their free hand to keep a gun trained of her. 

"No funny business, now." He reminded, beginning to pat her down. To his credit he wasn't too pervy about it, probably out of caution in case she decided to stab him. A smart precaution on his part. Her knife and radio were confiscated before he took her pistol and slipped it into the back waist of his jeans. She wanted to wipe the self satisfied expression right off of his face as he took out a pair of police-issue cuffs and grabbed her wrists to put them on. She really must be Wrath, her violent side came to the surface more easily than she'd like - but he was looking at her collar now as if he could see through the fabric right to the tattoo beneath it and it made her want to crawl out of her skin. 

When she was properly cuffed and disarmed he took hold of her elbow and lead her forward in the direction he'd come from. 

"Hey, Hudson goes free. We had a deal." 

"So we did." John raised a hand and motioned towards his men. One of the guards kept hold of Hudson and turned around, heading towards a different car from the one they were heading for. John must have seen the confusion and quick spark of anger in her eyes, holding up a hand to stop any outburst she might let loose. 

"She will be dropped off at US Auto. Can't have her trying to be a hero and calling for help before we can take our leave, can we?" 

Grace kept her eyes on Hudson as she was put into the backseat of a car and driven away back down the road towards the outpost. She had to remind herself to have faith, that John would keep his word, after all he could have come here with an entire caravan if he'd wanted to. Wordlessly John brought her forward and sat her in the backseat of a four door pickup along with the guard that had stayed with them. He got behind the wheel and turned on the radio, whistling along as they drove away. At one point his eyes caught hers in the rear view and he flashed her a grin. 

"You're not going to regret this." 

\-----

Nothing was as unnerving about this whole experience as the stare of all the peggies at John's Gate as he walked her through the open lot to the small building that housed the entrance. It was strikingly similar to walking through Joseph's compound for the first time, a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere, like she didn't belong there. Those in the courtyard slowed in their daily business to watch John holding onto the crook of her arm as he lead her handcuffed. Some looked triumphant at seeing the Deputy being taken in, other looked at her hatefully. She understood. More likely than not she had killed their friends and family at some time - not seeing the people behind the weapons as she defended herself. Their disgusted whispers weren't that quiet, she kept her eyes locked forward. They would be inside soon.

_"Sinner."_

_"Heathen."_

_"She'll damn us all."_

Grace tried keep a mask of indifference on in the face of the growing number of peggies that moved in closer around them. John kept them at a steady pace walking across the pavement, but when one of the faithful spat at her feet he barked at them to get back to what they were doing. The guard trailing behind them made sure no one came too close to do it again. The cuffs felt cold against her wrists as they walked into a concrete building that looked like an oversized garage. 

They walked to the steel bunker door she hadn't seen since she had broken out of here all that time ago, watching as he took his bunker key from around his neck and messed with a console nearby to get the door to unlock and open slowly. He pulled her forward and they began their descent down a labyrinth of hallways, the halls were filled with boxes of supplies and the walls had painted words about different sins and the power of yes. Most doors were closed so she had no time to glance in on them and see what was inside. It seemed to go on forever as they took the stairs and continued down, down into the bowels. They must have gone a whole level deeper than the one she was on last time. 

There were a few peggies inside moving about the corridors, if it didn't seem so cold and dreary down here it would almost feel like an empty college dorm during midday classes. The peggies here only sneered at her briefly or blatantly turned their head from her, not needing to be told to continue what they were doing. Apparently they did not find her worth the effort. Another few flights of stairs later and she was brought into a familiar room. 

It was dark, with the exception of a red and orange light emanating from various industrial lamps in every corner. Some bliss bouquets hung from the upper railings, none close enough to make her head fuzzy. There was another workbench here, already decked out in various tools for torture. John, it seemed, had also brought his tattoo gun and ink out preemptively. The thought of his eager enthusiasm for her confession made a smile tug at her lips. 

This room reminded her a lot of the previous torture room she had been in, but this one had more skins stapled to the walls. Her smile faded as she tried to count them. The sight of them, the smell, made her want to wretch. 

He brought her over to a metal chair, no wheels for her this time, and sat her down in it. 

The guard that had been following them nodded at John and closed the door, posting himself behind it. While she took in more of the room ( _why_ was there a video camera?) John seemed to be deciding whether or not to use tape or rope to keep her strapped to the chair. It didn't seem that much of a deal, but she got the sense that John was big into details. Finally he decided on the tape, walking over to her and kneeling in front of her, starting with her ankles. 

"You've come willingly, but I am cautious in all things. Don't want you changing your mind and running for the door. Not that you would get very far." He finished up her ankles and placed her hands on the arms of the chair and proceeding to tape them down as well. Grace could feel him buzzing with excitement. 

"I want to confess. Can't enter Eden with a blackened heart." 

"Since when have you believed in Eden?" John asked distrustfully. 

"People change." 

He laughed and stood up, shaking his head, apparently finding some humor in that belief. Skeptical of every word, but it was probably normal for someone who had heard so many confessions. He tested her restraints before wheeling over a stool and end table, on top of which sat his tattoo equipment. No turning back now. He folded his long jacket and placed it atop the workbench, leaving him in his nice silk undershirt and black vest. As he sat himself down she instinctively tried to talk through her nerves at having the Baptist ready and right in front of her. There was something more intimate about being in a locked torture room together than was comfortable. 

"Pastor Jerome told me that Joseph and yourself used to attend Fall's End's church. Back when you guys first moved out here." 

He paused in rolling up his sleeves. "For a few months. Mostly Joseph, assessing the sermons and meeting the faithful of the county."

"Was Jerome still the pastor back then?" 

"Yes." He held the tattoo gun and it buzzed to life, just making sure it ran smoothly, before setting it down and organizing everything else on the tray. He kept a small well of black ink next to the gun itself, a clear looking ointment, a clean rag, and a bowl of clean water. She could imagine him working in a tattoo shop, constantly letting the other workers know he could do everything better himself. She could see his compulsive tendencies as he meticulously made sure everything was in a specific position on the tray, making small adjustments until the concentration on his face turned to satisfaction.

"You seemed upset when he helped me escape your little kidnapping van." 

His motions became stilted, she could see the annoyance in his movements. When he spoke it was very matter-of-factly, with a tinge of irritation.

"Pastor Jerome is selfish and misguided. And if he were a true man of God, his people wouldn't have left him in the first place." 

"I dunno about that, still a lot of people who go to him." 

"Yes, well he or whoever else foolish enough to remain will burn in the flames of the Collapse. We will rebuild a new Eden over the ashes of his sorry congregation." 

Her eye twitched, here she was trying to make everything better for everyone and John was intent on burning everything and everyone who got in his way. It was just a reminder to not underestimate the youngest Seed brother. Finally finishing up, he clapped his hands together and sighed contentedly. When he looked at her he grinned, trailing his gaze down from her face and past her collared neck to her chest. Specifically, the spot where he had marked her before. 

Reaching forward, Grace stayed completely still as John unbuttoned the first couple buttons of her flannel. He opened up the material and looked at her like a canvas ready to be painted, eyes roving and assessing the possibilities. His fingers skimmed over her ' _WRATH_ ' tattoo, looking pleased that it had healed properly. But then his eyes clouded, raising up a bit, and with a shiver she felt his fingers trail up to her neck and brush over Joseph's hickey. 

John tutted as he flashed his eyes up to meet hers. 

"Well, well, Deputy. I think I can guess what your next marking will be." 

Looking away, she tried to keep her eyes focused on the very interesting wall across the room. She hadn't asked Joseph how much about them, if anything, he had chosen to reveal to his brothers. Grace wasn't about to try and work her way through that minefield, so for now she opted for misdirection. 

"I was thinking I would start with something else." 

"Oh?" He leaned back and took hold of his tattoo gun, letting it rest in his grasp as his grin widened. "An eager one, for once. This is a private confession, Deputy. Begin where you must, but I will bring forth every sin from your lips." She blinked at him, wondering if he really was this dramatic or if it was a serious attempt at intimidation. Either way, she had come all this way, she had to have faith that this was for the best. 

"I…" Grace's mouth ran dry, heart thudding in her chest as she met John's expectant gaze. 

She had been so focused on whether or not she could take the physical pain that she had pushed what emotional hurt it would bring her to the back of her mind. She would have to let everything out - had to be brave, muster up what courage she had, and tell one of her enemies everything that ate away at her. Or it would kill her. No matter how small or insignificant it may seem. John bounced his knee impatiently, quirking a brow and tilting his head to convey his impatience.

"I killed my sister." The words rushed out quickly, her eyes shuttering closed as the admission tore something in her heart that had been carefully shut away. It hurt to say and hear and _remember_ \- like she had picked a scab open and what came out eroded away at the tranquility she had been feeling. Grace tried to keep her breathing under control as she fought against a rushing tide of regret. When she opened her eyes again she tilted her head back and blinked to ward off the tears. It would be just _great_ if she didn't break down in the torture room before he had even touched her. 

John shifted in her periphery. 

"...Well. Sororicide was not something I was expecting to hear. But then again, you _are_ Wrath." Don't look at him, don't let him play with you. Just say your truth and come clean. Grace gathered herself together again and lowered her head back down, looking at her lap. Anywhere but his face. He gripped her shoulder harshly and she yelped at the pain, the sound of the tattoo gun revving to life reaching her ears. "I guess we will have to make my previous work a little deeper, hm?" 

She closed her eyes again as the gun came closer, bracing herself for the sting of the needle when--

"John, sir, there's-- _oh_." The gun stopped whirring and Grace's eyes flew open. A look of annoyance overtook his expression and he glared over at the intruder. The guard from earlier shuffled his feet, uncomfortable at having her curiosity and John's ire directed at him. 

"What. Is. It." He gritted out. 

"S-sir, The Father is here. I told him you were in the middle of a confession, but he is insisting." 

Immediately John's expression softened, and Grace knew what he was thinking. He had that same look when Joseph visited him during her baptism all that time ago. In the milliseconds it took him to pull back and place the gun on the tray, she remembered the voicemail and Joseph's words to her the other night. John wanted to belong so badly, wanted the approval of his brothers more than anything. She was just sorry she didn't see it so clearly until now, not that it excused him taking out his pain onto others. Did she even want to know what his foster parents had done to him?

"One moment, my dear. I won't keep you waiting long." He winked and she sighed, relaxing into the chair as he walked out of the room with his guard. The door slammed shut and she was left in silence. It rang in her ears and made her fidget as the minutes passed. 

Impeccable timing as usual, that one. But maybe with the Father here, John could get more practice showing 'love' to those he was saving, which was very good for her. John probably wouldn't be too happy about it, but oh well. A cowardly part of her had also wanted him here because she didn't want to have to repeat her sins over again to him sometime later. This shit would be painful enough just the once, she had never spoken about it with anyone. 

So she waited, contemplating who she had become to willingly put herself here. After everything maybe she deserved it, to be in pain. To have her heart feel constricted, heavy with guilt and blood of the lives she'd taken. Maybe after this Joe would decide she was too tainted to save. After awhile she heard faint footsteps drawing nearer, the murmuring of voices outside the room.

The door swung open. 

She was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a Dep/John story in the works but I don't think I'll start posting it until I am finished with this story. I want to give each the attention they deserve. Hope you enjoyed!


	17. Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mention of suicide.

The metal door swung open and Grace looked curiously at John as he ambled back into the chamber. He looked pleased with himself, but before she could make a wry comment about keeping her tied up and waiting, she saw Joseph stride in close behind. When her eyes connected with his she found her current circumstance became momentarily forgotten. The corners of her mouth tilted up - the sight of him immediately reassuring her like the effect of some strange Pavlovian conditioning. 

John came to a stop in front of her, casting a shifty eyed look at her sudden pleased expression. Grace quickly wiped it off her face and cleared her throat, shaking away feelings of longing and berating herself for arousing John's suspicion. It also left her feeling somewhat pathetic, considering that they had just seen each other that morning and she hadn't realized she'd missed him until now. 

This would all be much easier if John knew everything. But that wouldn't happen until a day came where that wouldn't be a catastrophe, because he undoubtedly _would_ want to broadcast the news in an over-the-top televised announcement. Hope County just wasn't ready to handle the fact that their Deputy and Joseph Seed were in a...relationship...like...thing. 

"Grace. It is my wish to observe this confession. My brother and I are both pleasantly surprised you have given yourself to us willingly. I am glad you have seen the light." 

His melodic voice gave away no particular emotion, he stayed behind John near his workbench, looking up at the numerous skins nailed upon the walls. From that morning he had changed into his jeans and vest getup, boots echoing in the room as he took his steps. She did a quick glance towards his lower stomach, looking for any sign the fresh cuts beneath his shirt were still bleeding. Nothing, as far as she could tell. Good.

"Grace?" John asked, looking away from her over to Joseph, who blinked back guilelessly. 

"Yes. Grace Elisabeth Rook. You would do well to learn the names of those who come to you for cleansing." Any surprise or confusion John may have felt at _how_ exactly Joseph knew that information was overtaken by the chastising that had come afterwards. He nodded his head, eyes briefly downcast. 

"Yes, Joseph." 

John stepped to the side and allowed him to come up to her. He toyed with his rosary before lifting a hand to cup her cheek, the sight of him looking down upon her with approval was making her body sing inexplicably. A small voice in the back of her head screamed at her, trying to convey how crazy all of this was, but it was drowned out by Grace's memories. How every interaction with Joseph had led her closer to sanity.

"You have come willingly, after fighting it for so long. That will not be forgotten." He murmured, dropping his hand and leaving the skin of her cheek cold again. Joseph returned to the workbench and picked up John's coat, considering it for a moment before unfolding it and draping it across the various tools laid out upon the wooden surface. "Those who come willingly for God's forgiveness may have their sins struck away, while the unwilling sinners of this world need them carved out. These won't be necessary today." 

And there it was. The reason she had finally decided to do this. Once the looming threat of flaying her skin off was removed from the table, it had done wonders for her enthusiasm to come clean. Never before had she been so happy that she had read the Book of Joseph thoroughly. At most she would just have her sins crossed out - like John's and other peggies had been. After arranging the trade off for Hudson she had called Joseph to confirm this, and also to tell him that she wouldn't have her radio, but that he would be able to find her with John. No need to repeat what happened the last time that Joseph hadn't been able to get in contact with her. 

There were many things that could have gone wrong with this plan, but everything had turned out smoothly. Grace didn't see any point in deciding to be less reckless _now_. Maybe there was something to this 'faith' thing after all. 

"That is the will of the Father. Let us continue, then, Deputy." If John had any qualms about not getting to slice her skin off, he didn't show it. He simply sat himself down on his stool and pulled his cart closer, closing his eyes and inhaling as if to prepare himself. When they opened again they were intent upon her. "Tell me more of your sin. Tell me about the sister you killed."

Her eyes flicked over John's shoulder to observe Joseph. He stood with his arms crossed, watching her right back with his usual self-possessed composure. There was no reaction at all from him after John's reiteration of her first confession. Sitting before these two brothers, it was obvious she held their rapt attention, although the thought of that made her fidget awkwardly. Once this was all through she seriously hoped they had meant it when they said anyone could attain forgiveness. If they thought her heart irredeemable, then they would take away all the hopes she had been given by Joseph. Although it was not as if there were parts about them that weren't equally black, if not more so. Judge not and ye shall not be judged. 

"Her name was Madeline. Like from those kids books." She whispered, biting the inside of her cheek, letting her eyes focus past John's face. Encouraging herself to keep talking was the hardest part, harder than having the men in front of her hear everything. Slowly she opened up the place in her mind she had kept locked away for nearly ten years. Memories of a little girl running around the living room pretending her barbie doll could fly, of doing homework together on a school night, trickling out from that locked recess and threatening to suffocate her. 

"Once when I was six and Maddie was three, we were blowing bubbles around the house. At some point I decided to pour some of my bubble solution into her drink when no one was looking. Even at the age I didn't get along with her." She shrugged, adjusting herself in her metal seat, "I felt guilty about it a few minutes later and poured it out, but still, that was a lot of hate to have as a kid." 

"But you didn't kill her then." John ventured. Grace nodded. 

"We never got along, which was mostly my fault. She is-- she _was_ \--so gentle. She cried easily, cared about everything too much. It annoyed me to no end that she was too sensitive to handle anything. So I turned all that annoyance into hate and never let it go. Because it was too stressful to love someone who you had to protect all the time." 

Her voice cracked towards the end, so she took a moment to relax and breathe before continuing. John's thumb ran over the metal side of the tattoo gun in his hand, lazily, as he waited. More memories slipped out as she dug deeper. Learning to ride bikes together, scolding Maddie for crying when an evil cartoon villain was defeated. Whenever they would play hide and seek together she would eventually run out of their hiding place and announce where they were - not wanting whoever was looking for them to get worried. 

"I know, thinking about it now, that I envied her. Maddie felt all of the bad in the world so strongly, but all the good, too. And I couldn't relate, eventually I just ignored her. Treated her like she didn't exist." Her voice grew hard, sounding strange to her own ears. Voicing everything aloud made her feel worse, no line of thinking making her reasons seem sympathetic even to herself. Maybe by neglecting to look after her sister she wouldn't have had to watch her get hurt - or maybe she was simply a terrible person, even as a child. 

"She would come to my room and ask if I wanted to play with her. I was such a brat, I just closed the door on her. Like it would be uncool to play with her or some shit."

John was still his chair, not moving a muscle. Just listening. They both were.

"After awhile it was just habit not to pay her any mind. When I was sixteen I found her downstairs in the living room, crying her eyes out again. Apparently some of her friends were fighting and she couldn't take the idea. That's _all_ it took. Always a crybaby, to the end." Grace shook her head, tapping her foot against the ground as much as she could in her captive state. 

"And what happened next, Deputy?" John prodded, placing a hand on her knee to get her to stop bouncing it. She stared at his tattooed hand upon her knee, reading the Latin sins inked upon it. 

"I just told her to get herself together and left her alone! That was the last fucking thing I said to her." Her words tore at her as she spoke them, sounding angrier with every word. That night, remembering the tears in her little sisters eyes, Grace knew it was unfair that Maddie had felt everything on an almost unnatural level. All she had needed was a shield, a protector, someone who gave a damn. But Grace hadn't even tried, didn't want to see how much her little sister had needed her. 

"I could have saved her. I was the only one that _could_ have! Our parents were never home, they _trusted_ me to look after her. And when I left my room that night to get a drink...there was water all over the floor." Her voice came out shakily, vocal cords tightening as she _forced_ herself to remember, _forced_ herself to completely open that box she'd hidden away inside herself.

She described rapping on the bathroom door, yelling to Maddie about how if she was going to fall asleep in the tub then she'd better clean it all up. She could remember the feel of water soaking into her socks as surely as she felt the hot tears trailing down her cheeks. Grace refused to look either brother in the eye, keeping her sight unfocused, keeping herself in the memory. 

"I opened the door. It was so red. Red, red… I slid on the floor and fell when I ran for her. Fucked up my knee pretty bad, hit my chin hard." Blood from her chin had dripped down and mixed with her sisters in the flood of water spilling onto the tile from the lip of the tub. Grace cried out at the pain blossoming from her knee and her chin - but she unsteadily lifted herself up and turned the water off. She grabbed at her sister, trying to lift her up and out as best she could, but her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Her pajamas were soaked and stained. Maddie wasn't a heavy thirteen year old at all, but Grace's grip kept slipping. Her sister kept falling away, out of her grasp. 

Her fingers twitched against the arms of her chair, held down by the duct tape as she recalled the feeling of grabbing at cold skin. The look of her sisters bloodless complexion, her eyes closed, never to shed another tear. 

"I killed her. It was my fault. Might as well have done it myself. I had every opportunity to help. Every. One. I let my bitterness get the better of me. My envy. So fuckin' stupid. She was only thirteen. She needed her older sister. Needed _me_. And I just..." She snorted and closed her eyes, shaking her head and sniffling back her now runny nose. 

Minutes passed by. There was no scolding from Joseph about her language, just the opening of her eyes at the feel of his thumb gently wiping at her nose for her. He pulled away and she leaned in after him with a soft sob. She felt raw. Never in her life had she wanted to relive that night, to think about what drove her to protect others. About what influenced her to become a cop in the first place. Even then she couldn't do that right, immediately defaulting to killing every peggie she saw. She could never be like Maddie. 

Joseph took the cloth from the cart and dipped it in water basin, squeezing the excess and examining her exposed chest. While John brought his gun to life, Joseph leaned in and wiped at her skin, running it over her old tattoo and below her other collarbone, shushing her gently as John dipped his needle into the ink. When he was finished he put the cloth back and gave John the room he needed to begin. 

"Your wrath and your envy have caused misfortune, there is no question. But do you confess these sins before God? Do you renounce them now, Grace? Or will you let these sins go without punishment?" 

Grace nodded her head, trying to slow down her breathing so her chest wouldn't move as much. "I-I do renounce t-them. Please." She hissed, "Do it. For Maddie." 

John grabbed hold of her left shoulder to keep her steady, not as harshly as before, but suddenly enough to make her jump. "You will be punished for no one but _yourself_. You will find absolution from _yourself_ and God, and when the time comes it will be stricken from you." 

She inhaled sharply as he began tattooing over her already existing _Wrath_ , making it darker as he went over it again. Grace didn't know where to look, should she close her eyes? Look at Joseph? She could count the number of skins upon the wall, like she had counted the boards in the ceiling of Falls End church. Maybe count the seconds it took for the tears on her cheeks to dry? Every so often he would pull back and grab the cloth from the tray, running it over the fresh markings and wiping away blood and excess ink. When he resumed Grace decided to close her eyes and focus on the pain. There was no point in confession if she just tried to put it out of her mind. She let herself sit still and feel every stab of the needle until her _Wrath_ tattoo was re-inked, the letters slightly thicker than they had been.

The gun whirred to a stop as John looked over his handiwork, tilting his head and making sure his lines were neat before grabbing her opposite shoulder. He spared her one pitying glance and dipped his needle into more ink, beginning to work on _Envy_. Grace couldn't help but remember how adamant her mom was about not getting tattoos. She called them the devils work, and if one's body was a pure gift from the Lord, then it shouldn't be ridden with ink. What would she say now, with a Baptist and a preacher handing out tattoos as part of atonement? The thought of her mom scolding the Seed brothers was enough to distract her as the first letter was complete. 

Next she thought of Maddie, with her short brown bob and floral dresses. Such a skinny thing. Too young, they both had been. It wasn't abnormal for siblings to not get along, and from the get go they had been like identical ends of a magnet - pushing away from each other and never connecting. Where Maddie cried, Grace raged. When their grandparents had passed, Maddie picked dandelions from the grass and put them on the other tombstones they had seen during the burial. She thought they looked lonely and deserved a flower as well. That was Maddie. Grace stayed by the car, angry at the world for taking their grandparents from her, not caring if their funeral wasn't an appropriate place to throw a tantrum.

Look at all she had managed to do with the life given to her and where it had landed her. Maddie would never have taken all the lives that Grace had. With her empathy she probably would have found a more peaceful solution sooner. 

Grace thought bitterly that she should have died instead. In the end she decided to protect those who needed it, but it had been too little too late for her sister. 

When she had been at Jessop's and Joseph had decided to listen to her instead of dismiss her, to meet her halfway and take her back from the precipice, that was the kind of person she should have been to her sister. Grace felt the pain under her collar stop, replaced by the gentle wiping of a cold cloth. 

"Almost done, now. Normally there is much more resistance, and the final product is messy. But you are so well behaved today, Deputy." 

As John got to work on the last letter, she finally looked to Joseph. He was running a finger over his bottom lip, not quite looking at her, lost in thoughts of his own until John announced he was finished. Grace glanced down at her chest as best she could, looking at the bloodied tattoos under each of her collarbones. The lines were neater than most of the work had seen by him, the victims on the other end of his gun having struggled and rendered his steady hand obsolete. But she had been ready. She was well behaved, already seeing the damage her fire had wrought so far. John stood up to stretch, taking the bowl of water that had now clouded into a black and red mess, and the equally dirty cloth. He gave her one last look over before speaking quietly to Joseph and leaving to get a fresh cloth and clean water.

Joseph stood looking at the empty doorway that John had left through, his silence towards her making her heart feel like it would burst in her chest. Normally she couldn't get the man to shut up, and right when she bared herself to him he got all quiet once more. Wasn't this what he had wanted all along? Grace called out his name softly, as if she spoke too loudly it would anger him. Thankfully he turned back at the sound of her voice and closed the distance between them. 

"You are doing well, my Grace." He knelt in front of her and looked approvingly at her sins, eyes catching on that damned hickey. In that moment he looked so relieved, so content, that she had to wonder if this was all a dream and she hadn't willingly given herself over to be marked by a madman. She shivered as his fingers ghosted over her bruise, a tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. Tilting her head slightly, she obstructed his view of her neck to get his attention. 

"Do you think I'm still savable?"

Joseph watched her closely, not saying anything. Through his eyes he willed her to pour her guilt out, to feel all the pain she had caused come right back at her. She knew because that was what it would take. He would give her no word until she gave him the right ones, ones that spoke her own truth. She didn't even know if she was sane anymore. Not after this. 

She bit her bottom lip, thinking of all the times he said that he would save her. But he hadn't known all of her bitterness, stemming back years and years. How this wannabe hero-cop had to pull her dead sisters body from a bathtub to get that way. Grace fought against the creeping thoughts that told her she wasn't worth forgiveness. 

"Please… I am so sorry. I wish I'd been better for her! I was a stupid brat. Please, say _something_! I _fucking_ let her die! I had this beautiful sister who had a big heart and all the love in the world to give. I let her shrivel up and die in the room next to me because she felt like a hassle!" Grace struggled for air, words tumbling out as she let her guilt swell. "I'll dream of her every night from now on, I will, I'll make sure she's always with me. I hid it, but it should have been me, just me, she was so good, Joe! Tell me I'm despicable. Just say _anything_ , please!" 

Her face felt hot in her shame, the tears falling freely doing nothing to cool her skin. The wailing that escaped her sounded like a strangers, not entirely her own. More like a part of her that she was just getting to know. She felt warm arms wrap around her, one staying on her back and the other cradling her head against Joseph's chest as he comforted her wordlessly. There was nothing for him to say, she had to find that forgiveness within herself like John had said. 

She breathed in the scent of him and let herself fall apart once more in his arms. How many times had she done this? Leaned on him for support even when she lied to herself about not wanting it? He kept her pieces together when they threatened to fall apart, and all he had ever asked for in return was for her to confess and atone. They stayed that way for a long while, until her sobs had turned to small whimpers and hiccups, body aching from her breakdown. There was barely pain from her marked chest, at least that she was able to notice. Joseph kept a hold on her when she heard the door swing open once more. Eyes still closed, she felt Joseph make a gesture and heard John moving about the room quietly, getting ready for what other sins she had to bring forth. 

"No one is unsavable in God's eyes, as long as you release your sins. Grow from them." He murmured into her ear, pulling back finally to press his forehead to hers - followed by a light brush of his lips on her cheek as he pulled away. Blinking her eyes open, she sniffled and remained limp in her chair as Joseph went back to lean on the workbench. 

Grace watched John set down the new water bowl and cloth, looking at the spot on her cheek where Joseph had placed a kiss. She felt too numb at this point to worry about whatever was coming together in his head, nothing mattered until she finished her confession. 

"My dear Deputy, are you ready to continue?" He asked, leaning forward on his stool and clasping his hands together in front of him. He had so many different tattoos from his hands up his forearms, she let herself stare at them as she nodded. Giving in to what he had wanted from her since the beginning. 

"Yes. Let's keep going."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went through so many rewrites, but I finally settled on something I was happy with. Hope you all enjoy! :)


	18. Cultivation

How long Grace had spent down in John's Gate, she wasn't sure.

There were no clocks that she could see, so she relied on the rotation of guards outside the door and the meals brought in by Joseph to keep a messy timeline in her head. She thought about simply asking one of them but decided against it, not wanting them to think she was in a hurry to escape. After she had divulged everything about Madeline to them, essentially ripping open her heart to bare that caustic part of herself, they let Grace compose herself for the other confessions they intended to hear from her. John would watch them from the doorway as Joseph sat in front of her twice a day, feeding her a very bland tasting oatmeal. It seemed awkward to be fed this way, but it was probably heaven compared to the horror stories she'd heard. 

Grace was thankful for the reprieve before she would be asked to continue going. She still felt racked by that first day of her confession, spending most of the time afterwards weeping and talking to Joseph about Maddie. It felt so strange to say her name aloud, to talk about her and feel released instead of drowned by a maddening guilt. After Maddie had died she kept all thoughts and recollections of her locked away for the last ten, nearly twelve years. So securely tucked away that Grace stubbornly almost let her be forgotten forever. She wept as she spoke of this, hating herself for letting her sisters memory get that far away. Before this she couldn't have recalled the last time she'd let Maddie become even a faint glimmer in her thoughts. But Grace hadn't lied, from now on she would take Maddie with her everywhere. 

Joseph, as he tended to her, made no obvious gesture that would give their intimacy away. Not that he wasn't putting too much effort into hiding it, either. Keeping secrets wasn't his style, but leaving a trail of breadcrumbs that lead to the truth was. He already had a reputation for disregarding or flat out ignoring people's personal space, like touching foreheads, hugging, holding hands, standing unnervingly close, etc. But she was pretty sure he didn't go around kissing his flock on the cheek, or running his thumb comfortingly in soothing circles as he rested a hand on their shoulder. Which was something that _must_ have occurred to John as he observed the two of them. Hopefully her hickey would fade and John might forget about it, but something in the back of her head told her that if she was going to go all in on this then he would find out anyways. She should make sure Joseph was definitely there when she decided to, he was probably the only one that could do damage control. 

"If you wish to return to your compound, Joseph, I would not mind looking after her myself. I know our faithful will be missing your sermons." John suggested, just the once - to which Joseph gave him no physical acknowledgement. His eyes stared into her own as if trying to convey without words how _good_ a decision this had been on her part. And it was a comforting look to be graced with, she already felt like she had finally invested in something that was good for her. 

"I wish to oversee Grace's confessions, her atonement, and her cleansing. After all this time she will be able to walk with us to Eden. We have waited so long for the Lamb to come to us." 

She wasn't sure if he was referring to the two of them, or Eden's Gate. Either way, John did not presume to ask again, and Grace didn't have the heart to tell them she wouldn't be staying after she finished. 

It was Joseph who spoke with her more afterwards about her sister, bringing her to a place where she could speak of her without breaking down all over. He achieved it in such a way that only someone with his infinite patience could. Until the time when she would confess again, John seemed satisfied to simply watch them interact, probably irked that his sadistic plans for her had been interrupted. Her tattoo's scabbed over a day or two later, and every so often John would take some clear ointment and trace it over the letters to keep the ink hydrated. Grace had tried sleeping sitting up, but found it was impossible in the uncomfortable metal chair. She couldn't stretch her muscles because of the tape _and_ her ass had fallen asleep after her first few hours in captivity. 

Although, her unused muscles were the worst discomfort next to the awkwardness of needing to be escorted by a guard to the bathroom.

It had only taken her a few trips to the bathroom to realize she wouldn't learn much about what was hidden in the rooms of John's bunker. There were the usual crates of supplies for the Collapse and many metal doors, but with her armed escort she didn't have any time to stop and peek through the small slotted windows of each one as they passed. She saw no signs of captives, no sounds of others being tortured - at least on this level - just a smattering of peggies patrolling or writing on clipboards. The bathroom was one hundred and fifty steps away from the chamber she was kept in and it was about as small as an office cubicle. There were no windows, one tightly sealed air vent, a sink with a small mirror (did not open into a medicine cabinet, she checked) and a plain white toilet. 

The first time she had been taken for a bathroom break she'd spent most of it looking at herself in the little mirror. 

She looked like hell. 

Grace's long hair was greasy from not being washed, and there was a blueish purple hue underneath her bloodshot eyes that spoke to her lack of sleep. Her nose was crusty from crying and the tattoos on her upper chest looked bold and angry against her pale skin. But the reflection staring back at her now still looked better than the one she had seen that night at the 8 Bit Bar, after she'd blown up Joseph's statue. Because as shitty as her physical state may appear, she didn't look like a zombie anymore. Grace could actually see a living being in her eyes, a glimmer of hope and life, whereas before she had felt worthless and dead inside. She placed her hands on her cheeks and closed her eyes, taking a few moments to cry quietly in relief. After this confession stuff was over she really had to pull herself together, she had never cried this much in her life. 

But the worst part about this was that none of her friends would understand how she had needed this messed up form of confession. How could they? God, what would she tell them? She would have to hide the new tattoos or tell them she had been kidnapped again. Though that would feel like a rotten lie to tell when this was so important to her. There would be no making them understand why she wanted to do this. Maybe she had lost her mind a long time ago and never noticed. 

Lightly, she traced her fingertips over the lines of ink before running the tap water to begin giving herself a mini-bath. Grace picked up a white, unscented chunk of soap from the sink and began washing her face and arms, hoping to get to some semblance of clean before she was escorted back. Taking care of her business and trying (futilely) to comb her hair with her fingers, Grace eventually stepped out and let herself be walked back with no fuss. It wasn't time to leave just yet. Just a few more things to confess.

\-----

Possibly two days later (four meals and six guard rotations), Grace snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of John's whistling getting closer. Both him and Joseph would leave intermittently to take care of things topside, not giving her a time when she should expect them back. When he opened the door and walked in she looked around for Joseph, waiting for him to follow behind John like he usually did. But the youngest Seed smirked and shook his head at her, placing a metal pitcher on his workbench with a paper dixie cup. 

"Sorry to disappoint, but the Father is running a little late this morning. Just you and I for now, Deputy." 

Alright, some confirmation. That meant it was probably around her fourth or fifth day here and her first meal was given to her in the morning like she'd suspected. Her eyes locked onto the pitcher, swallowing dryly at the thought of something to drink. Noticing him watching her with a wry smirk, she took her eyes away from it. 

"If you know my name then why do you still call me Deputy?" She rasped, hoping her dry voice was an obvious indicator before she chewed the duct tape off _herself_ and lunged for it. John took his sweet time pouring some water from the pitcher into the paper cup. He walked over and held it up to her lips, watching her with an odd sort of fascination as she drank from it greedily. The look might have creeped her out if she hadn't been so dehydrated and grateful. While she sated herself he answered. 

"I should ask you the same question, _Grace_. Tell me, why don't your friends in the Resistance call you by name? I keep tabs on the civilian and Resistance frequencies. No one has ever called you anything besides 'Deputy' or 'Rook'. So how is it that my brother was able to learn your name?" 

She finished the last drop in the cup and glanced over at the pitcher, putting her pride aside to quietly ask him for another cup. Grace licked her lips as she watched him refill it and walk back over. This time, before it could be brought close enough to her lips, he halted. Grace was left straining forward against the duct tape to reach it, and the asshole just chuckled at her and kept it out of reach. 

"Don't forget your manners, now. You haven't answered me." His voice sounded more authoritative than his expression had given away. That was what made John dangerous, besides his obvious temper. He was all smooth lines and dry humor - but underneath that was jagged edges waiting to tear you apart if you got too comfortable. Grace sighed, keeping her eyes on the cup of salvation he dangled in front of her. So damn _thirsty_. 

"Whitehorse knows my name, only cus' he was the one that hired me. He calls all his officers by last name, though. Then everything went down so quickly after I joined up, we tried to arrest Joe a few nights after I started. I didn't get the chance to talk much with anyone in the precinct, so I guess people just defaulted to calling me Deputy. No one besides Joe has ever asked, but it doesn't bother me." 

John was studying her face, searching for any sign of dishonesty and finding none. He lifted the cup closer and allowed her to drink it down, not looking frustrated at how she went for it so eagerly that it almost got knocked out of his hand. 

"And my brother? What made you tell dear 'Joe'?" For a second she paused drinking, opening her eyes to look him over and read his face. Then, slowly, she downed the rest of the water and brought her lips away. He had an excellent poker face, probably honed from his years being a lawyer and living among the wealthy in Atlanta. Maybe instead of trying to hide everything completely regarding her and Joseph, she should just switch right to damage control herself. 

"He asked. I answered. Nothing to be scandalized over." John toyed with the dixie cup in his hands, looking alight with amusement. It wasn't until he proceeded to crush the cup into a ball and toss it away that she recognized the irritation lurking beneath. 

"And it just...came up in casual conversation? A casual conversation between the _Deputy_ and the _Father_. You're right, no scandal there." He drawled, cracking a knuckle or two. 

Where was her radio when she needed it? She could desperately use a Joseph shaped buffer right about now. If John found out then it wouldn't be long before the rest of Hope County did, too. 

"What are you getting at?" She tested, keeping as straight a face as she could manage while panicking on the inside. 

John came forward and placed his hands over hers on the arms of the chair. Grace only had so much give she could use to pull her head back as he leaned in inches from her nose. He kept his voice low, just loud enough for her to hear.

"The last I heard of you was that you'd fled to the Henbane. You started pushing back at Faith's operation there, so eventually Joseph follows to check on our dear sister. But instead of returning to his compound, he makes a strange habit of going back and forth for awhile." 

Grace turned her head away, the best she could do to escape his gaze with limited to no mobility. He was too clever for his own good, to be able to see the strings twining that far back. 

John tilted his head to the side, appearing in her periphery as she tried to stare at the wall.

"Then dear Faith dies, such a shame, and you both come back like nothing was ever amiss. Have any blanks to fill in for me, _Grace_?" 

Ah, Faith. Grace had almost nearly forgotten about the fallen Herald. It seemed she had a bad habit of forgetting the women who impacted her life, though to be fair she had hardly known or cared about that manipulator. It didn't seem like John was too broken up about her, either. What had Whitehorse told her? That she was found in a lake of bliss flowers. Her passing had probably seemed like really going to heaven, more than she deserved. 

When Joseph had first started coming to her, it hadn't registered to her at the time that he was taking leave of his compound daily to go to their cabin. From their conversations she learned that he pretty much kept to his island compound and left the other regions to his siblings. Grace had assumed that his people placed such trust in him that visiting the Henbane everyday wouldn't be anything to blink an eye at. Unless, it seemed, you were as paranoid and curious as John Seed. 

"Nothing? How about the day you turn yourself in for confession, Joseph happens to drop in? You looked so happy to see him. Didn't you miss _me_ at all, Grace?" 

John's breath tickled at her cheek, one of his hands left hers to clamp onto her neck just under her jaw. His grip was firm, not enough to choke her, but enough to remind her that the only one capable of reigning in his temper was currently running late. 

"If you're so curious, why don't you ask Joseph?" She muttered, chancing a side glance at his chest to watch the silver of his bunker key dangle between them. He went quiet and for awhile she could only hear the sounds of their breathing - not daring to say anything else and risk him losing composure. Eventually he released her neck and stepped back, straightening his vest and running a hand through his hair. He smiled like nothing strange had happened, shaking a finger at her with a chuckle. 

"Right you are, Deputy! Right you are. And you have been so _eager_ to confess, it would be a shame to wait for Joseph. He wouldn't want us to delay getting those burden's off your chest."

Grace watched wearily as he sauntered over to his work bench, pulling his coat back to reveal the assortment of tools covered beneath. A spike of dread curled in her stomach, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the right words. He made a show of looking over all the tools at his disposal before settling on a rather sharp looking Phillips head screwdriver. She watched the dim lights gleam off of it as he came back over and sat on the stool in front of her. Like before all of his markings he took the time to deliberate over the expanse of her skin, imagining where the next one should go. With a hum of curiosity he placed the tool down in her lap so that he could finish unbuttoning the rest of her shirt. 

There was nothing more frustrating than the knowledge that there was a weapon she could use for defense in her lap and not being able to reach it. John's deft hands made quick work of the remaining buttons and pushed the sides of her shirt away to reveal her stomach and lower abdomen. Picking up his screwdriver again, he traced the cold metal tip from the bottom of her bra down to a small circular scar above her navel. A quirked eyebrow was the only voice to his question. 

"Belly ring. Years ago." Grace whispered. She wanted to keep confessing, but this didn't feel as genuine as it had with Joseph around. This felt more like pain for the sake of pain, confession for the sake of revealing secrets. If she wasn't so sure he would fly off the handle, Grace might ask him about what happened with his foster family. Ask him how in the world he was abused so badly that he became the man in front of her. He used the screwdriver to point at different small scars he saw, and she named off what caused them mechanically. A bike accident, training at the academy, bullet grazes or stab wounds from her time spent fighting the cult. By the time she'd finished clueing him in he had grabbed her upper right arm, tapping two fingers against the soft skin there decisively.

"You know, I've contemplated what you've confessed to us, and it occurred to me that you deserve the mark of 'Sloth' as well. Don't you agree? You were so unwilling to help your sister. And you took so long to turn yourself in for atonement." 

She clenched her jaw, willing Joseph to walk through the door. 

He didn't. 

It wasn't like John was wrong, Grace could see how she had been slothful when it came to helping her sister. But he never picked up the tattoo gun, instead looking over the sharp end of the Phillips head and making sure it wasn't dirty. She held her breath and watched the hard metal against the inside of her upper arm, jumping slightly as he made light scratches, the 'S' starting near her elbow and the 'H' ending near her armpit. 

"Why aren't you tattooing this?" Grace asked, keeping her nerves out of her voice as John looked it over, ensuring he had gotten his spacing right. 

"Because, Deputy, I don't think the pain of this confession has been much to you. Just because you cry for forgiveness doesn't mean that you have _suffered_ enough for your sins. And we can't have that." Grace watched the tool move around as John gestured with his hands as he spoke, "I'm thinking you need to hurt _more_ for it to take. Wouldn't want to have to do this a second time, now would we?" 

There was her ' _wrath_ ' again, bubbling up inside her and making her want to kick him in his pretty little face. Joseph's voicemail made more and more sense, this man needed to know that pain wasn't the only way to come clean. She wasn't sure that she could be the one to show him that, and she had promised Joseph that she wouldn't go after him. So when he asked her if she was ready to renounce her ' _sloth_ ' she nodded her assent and braced herself as he held tightly onto her arm and began carving the first letter onto her. 

She bit her lip immediately to keep from crying out - it definitely smarted worse than getting a tattoo had. Every press of the metal into her skin stung and burned, with John finally looking pleased at being able to do his work the way he'd wanted. She wished she could crawl out of her skin with every new puncture. Each gash John made was not as steady or clean as it could have been with the tattoo gun. It made her wonder if he had been the one to carve his own sins onto himself, or if he had someone else do it? She could feel the warmth of her blood running down her arm and seeping into the bunched sides of her shirt. Her brow furrowed so tensely that a small headache formed between her temples - Grace resigned herself to biting her lip and clenching her hands into fists as she panted through the pain. 

This marking seemed to go on forever compared to the others, but she dared not look at it until he was finished. 

By the time her bottom lip was bloody from biting down on it, John was finishing up.

"Yes!" He hissed, clapping his hands together and standing up, the euphoric look on his face a reminder of how much he enjoyed making others hurt as much as he had. With a pat her shoulder he took the screwdriver back to his work bench. When she blinked her eyes open the room spun, the pain of her inner arm already starting to thrum and pulse with a sharp ache.She let herself relax knowing that it was over for now, at least. John was wiping off his screwdriver, whistling a cheery tune before brandishing a familiar white cloth and pouring some pitcher water onto it. Grace took a moment to gather her courage before glancing down at the inside of her upper arm, horror turning into fascination as she watched him wipe away the excess blood on around his handiwork. 

The ' _Sloth_ ' was carved deep enough to bleed well, but shallow enough not to nick an important artery. It was fresh and therefore still gruesome looking, and Grace already couldn't wait until it scarred over and looked more PG-13. Her blood was bright red, the vibrant color of it standing out against the cloth as it was absorbed. The prolonged sight of the lacerations made her vision blur, so she looked away from it and took shaky breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. At least he wasn't going to flay it off of her, not when Joseph had specifically said not to. 

Grace tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus on something while she waited for the room to stop spinning. So many sins, and she had only confessed to one thing so far. From one important part of her that housed so many transgressions within it. She closed her eyes, intending on just resting them for a minute. Instead she sunk into unconsciousness, days of physical and emotional stress taking over and sending her to sleep for the first time in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thank you all for your feedback, I love reading it!  
> You can find me on tumblr: bakabeccaa


	19. Fortuity

_"Do you take nothing from..."_

Grace felt like she had been hit by a truck. She felt tendrils of consciousness reach for her, but could not rouse her muscles to open her eyes or do more than twitch her fingers. Her chest stung, but not as much as the pain she felt on her arm. There were two voices sounding near and far at the same time while she fought against waking, wishing nothing more than to slip back into the comfort of sleep. 

_"...do not see the difference, Joseph."_ A subdued but impatient voice. 

_"I wish to see..."_ The familiar cadence of Joseph's voice, _"...when the Collapse is upon us."_

Their voices warbled, going in one ear and out the other, impossible to get a grasp on. Grace felt a renewed stinging in her arm before she finally returned to calm nothingness. 

\----- 

_Amazing Grace...how sweet the sound…_

Grace sighed in appreciation as a gentle humming reached her ears. It was the second time, now, that she had awoken that day. Her eyes fluttered open only to immediately be closed again, shielding her retinas from the brightness of what looked to be a hideous antlered ceiling light. She recalled falling asleep in the chair, her head probably lolling back as she slept. Grace flexed her fingers and toes, getting a feel for how her body was fairing. She definitely felt more rested, remembering being so exhausted by the time John had finis-- _John_! 

Her eyes flew open and she lifted her head, jerking forward in the chair to look around for any sign of the Baptist that had carved her arm like a turkey. She noticed several things about the chamber before her eyes focused on the person kneeling in front of her. One, that they were the only two in the room. Two, that the tools and jacket that had been laid out on the workbench were cleared off. And three, her arm hurt way less than she remembered. After giving the room final a once over, she looked down at Joseph, who was knelt between her legs. 

"Grace. I'm glad you have awoken." He spoke softly. Her eyes got lost in his momentarily - as they were wont to do - before she blinked and looked where his hands were. The wound on her arm had been cleaned, and from the smell of it there was some kind of antiseptic cream dabbed over it. Joseph's warm hands were currently wrapping her upper arm in bandages, carefully circling the gauze around and around until every letter was covered. 

"Such a mother hen." She teased sleepily, infinitely grateful to see him in front of her. Her worries about waking up alone with John again were assuaged, so she allowed herself to relax.

Amusement lit up Joseph's eyes. Wait, had she said that out loud? Well he _was_ like a mother hen, often making her feel like a kid who got into accidents because she never wore her bike helmet. He allowed a small smile to twitch at the corner of his lips as he finished up, resuming his humming as he put a small metal clip in place to keep the bandages from unraveling. When he was done he simply held onto her arm, smile slipping as he stared like he could see the cuts through the material. 

"Joe?" 

"I am sorry for my brother, Grace. I was so worried about what _you_ might do to him, that I didn't think about what _he_ would do to you." 

"I knew what I was in for when I came here. This isn't something you have to carry on your shoulders." 

His hands ran down her arm, reverently cupping hers in between his. He leaned down and kissed the back of her hand, making her heart to do that strange skip-a-beat thing as she watched him. He stayed that way, lips pressed to her skin, for a while before pulling back and brandishing a small switchblade from him vest pocket. For a split second she panicked, remembering it as the same knife he'd used to carve himself with after they'd spent the night together. It only lasted a moment, and she visibly relaxed as he used it to begin removing the duct tape holding her to the chair. She watched and winced at the pull of tape from the skin of her wrists after he'd sliced the sides free. 

"Hey… You don't think I'll run off?" 

"I think your willingness to be here has been plain to see." 

There was that warm feeling in her chest that she hadn't felt since their first night together. Something frighteningly close to making her realize how much she cared for this crazy cult leader. Grace had assumed it had been something said in the heat of the moment, when he had inadvertently told her he loved her. From the start he had shown a great deal of understanding about who she was as a person, had gone out of his way for her just like the friends she had made here would. But instead of taking more time to consider the depth of her feelings for him, she stopped that dangerous train of thought and simply whispered,

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

When her wrists were finally free he moved on to the tape around her ankles. Grace took the opportunity to stretch her arms and roll her wrists for the first time in days, it felt so _good_ after being stuck for so long. Originating out of her gratitude was the realization that out of everyone in Montana, there was no one she would rather be stuck in a room with than Joseph. Which definitely wasn't something she could have predicted she'd ever feel. Ever. At least the tape around her ankles didn't hurt when removed since it was wrapped over her jeans. He made quick work of freeing her before bunching up all of the used tape and tossing it on the floor near the workbench. Grace took the rare opportunity of them being alone to flash him a smile, waiting for him to put away the switchblade before grabbing onto the lapels of his vest and pulling him in for a kiss. 

The immediate, electrifying sensation that came with feeling his lips crashing against hers made a satisfied moan slip from her. He didn't hesitate for a moment, hands coming up to cup her cheeks as their lips melded together, his own little sigh of contentment making her tremble. She couldn't have held herself back if she'd wanted to, not after so many days of being under a microscope by John with hardly a moment to themselves. Joseph clearly shared the same sentiment, evidenced by the eagerness she was met with. 

She didn't relinquish her grip of his vest, keeping him pulled in close to her. They kissed in a medley of soft caresses mixed with an urgent need to relieve any longing that built up as the days went by. Any pain in her arm or chest was forgotten as the warmth, scent and feel of him overwhelmed her senses. His tongue slipped past her lips, re-memorizing every inch of her that he could. There was very little she wouldn't give to not have to break contact and come up for air, but eventually they broke away from one another, lips hovering only millimeters away as they caught their breath. 

"...You are so beautiful." He declared softly. A hand left her cheek to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear before trailing down her jaw to her neck. She could feel him smirk, actually _smirk_ , as he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, running his fingers over where her mostly faded hickey had been. Grace huffed in quiet laughter and felt his hand move lower to trace around the letters of her new ink, careful not to bother the fresh marks of her confession. Falling back into a familiar comfort with each other, they rested their foreheads together and relished the feeling of being close. 

"Where is John?" 

"He will be here shortly, we will continue your confession when he returns."

"Am I going to be telling him of our most recent sin?" She asked, sounding teasing but seriously needing to know what their plan was. There was still no telling just how he would take finding out about their relationship. If it was that, anyways. Joseph answered in a clipped tone, precariously close to sounding annoyed at the thought of his brother. 

"No. I will be marking that sin from you myself." 

"Why? Don't trust him to not get angry?" 

"My brother is many things, but he lets the sins cast upon him in his youth fester and spread every time he decides to take that pain out on others. I would rather him not take his sin out on you." He looked again down at the bandages on her arm, a look of shame and regret flashing in his eyes but leaving as quickly as it came. 

"Why did you send him away? What does it matter?" 

"There was no love in his heart when he did this, it would have meant nothing." 

Would have? But John had already completed ' _Sloth_ ' by the time she had knocked out. Her confusion must have shown because he answered it without her needing to ask anything. 

"I carved over it again while you slept. With love and meaning, this time. I'm sorry." 

Grace wanted to feel disgust, shock or betrayal at learning he had cut her while she slept. Strangely she felt only relief at the fact he had at least done it while she remained out cold and wouldn't feel it. She looked him in the eye and tried to see a man who did things for power, or for control. But he wasn't John, and she couldn't. His actions towards her were a result of genuinely believing that atonement should hold meaning, that it would save someone. Not like a weapon to be used to as a scare tactic or punishment.

The more she knew he believed what he was saying, the more she believed it, too. 

\----- 

John returned around a half hour later, closing the door behind him and pausing to take in the sight of Joseph kneeling in front of Grace, both of them turning their head to look at him at the sound of the door shutting. 

He was wearing his jacket again, it faltered just as he did when he briefly stopped mid step, noticing the missing tape from her wrists and ankles balled up on the floor near his workbench. His brow furrowed but he visibly held back any remark that came to mind. Joseph stood up and nodded to him, meeting him halfway and doing the normal forehead-touch routine. 

"Grace is ready to continue her confession, brother." John looked at him wearily before locking eyes with her. He didn't trust her for a minute, but that was okay, since he shouldn't. Not until he displayed a modicum of genuine kindness towards her. She was still going to try and keep from taking the lives of others, peggie or not. But that didn't mean she couldn't punch him in the face when the time was right. 

"Is she now." He muttered the question as a statement, rolling his stool over next to his cart and sitting down in front of her, back to business as usual. He didn't bring up what had transpired that morning. 

"I am. No work tools this time?" She prodded. Joseph gave her a beseeching look from behind him and John sent a barely contained glare in her direction. Grace sighed, muttering a 'yes' as he got everything positioned the way he liked on his tray. 

The rest of the day passed more easily than the last few. Her admissions today were about how she never intended to join the police force here and wind up a murderer. A lot of it was her wrath, the way she had so easily decided to take up arms and extinguish lives left and right. She wasn't afraid to say aloud that their flock did the same exact thing, but no one came out on top of the moral high ground when both sides had blood on their hands. She told John of her wavering certainty about what side there was to choose if both had violent and unnecessary means that she disagreed with. They read her some biblical passages and made a genuine attempt to justify needing to take Hope County by force, but it all came down to whether or not the Collapse was something that was going to happen. 

Before she had came here she wasn't much for keeping up on the news. Though Grace didn't remember it seeming particularly good, but not taking the spiraling conflicts between countries too seriously. She would tell herself that unless drones started attacking people in the streets that it ultimately wouldn't affect her much. But she came to learn that even the civilians of Hope County had taken it upon themselves to be prepared for the end of days. There were more bunkers in this singular county than there had been in any other town she'd lived in. It seemed like normal talk here that people should have a safe place to go, you know, _just in case_. 

Did most of the residents of Hope County realize they had that in common with Eden's Gate? Both sides had people who believed there would be a war, or some other end to the world as they knew it. The only difference was, as Joseph told her in the bliss, that he was willing to lead and do what had to be done - to take what he needed and get his people ready. Even if it meant abandoning any sense of tolerance for non-believers, marching head strongly to make sure what needed to be done got done. It didn't justify some of the atrocities she had seen, but it didn't seem as far fetched as it had when she first arrived. 

Grace apologized over and over, not so much for John and Joseph but to herself and the lives she had taken. She didn't want to be the person who decided whether or not someone lived or died. She wanted to be the person that protected people from how shitty their lives could get. At one point she leaned forward with her hands on her knees, getting a jolt of worry when she didn't feel her badge in her back pocket, only to remember she had left it in her pack at US Auto. When she asked about Hudson, John had let her know his men had dumped her out of the car unceremoniously and driven away from the outpost. It wasn't the most pleasant way to carry out their bargain, but at least he hadn't gone back on his word and brought them both back to his bunker. 

The fact that John took the violent route towards her ' _Sloth_ ' became something she could forgive him for, because besides her ' _Wrath_ ' it was the one other sin that majorly defined her. Her sloth manifested when most of her faith left her a long time ago and she'd let her sister die. When she abandoned Hudson by choosing to flee to the Henbane. There was a whole month where she could have rescued her but chose to stay in Faith's region. That, along with the months it took her get to this place, where she could admit her fault in everything. All the time wasted coming around to the idea of atonement. 

So she couldn't stay angry with John for giving her a rough go.

When she was done, John deemed the countless murders of Eden's Gate members and her (previous) indifference, even pleasure, in the act was a sin of her wrath and of gluttony. He had her remove her shirt completely, which was sticking somewhat to the chair because of her dried blood. He leaned her forward in her seat so that her forehead was pressed to Joseph's lower stomach. She let Joseph sweep her hair to the side and hold onto her shoulders, allowing John to tattoo her back. She fidgeted uncomfortably as John's fingers ghosted along the expanse of her back, taking his time to choose where to place it. 

A few inches below her neck, resting between her shoulder blades. Just to the right of where Joseph had his. 

Grace grit her teeth and clenched her hands into fists when he started. Whenever the lettering got close to or right over her spine it took all of her self control, with the help of Joseph keeping her in place, not to jerk away from the searing pain that shot up her back. So, like she had done before, she tried to focus less on things that blocked out the pain and more on the bad things she had done in order to give that pain a reason for being. She closed her eyes and thought of the woman that had been praying at that one shrine she had blown up. Of the bodies lying lifeless on the ground around Joseph's demolished statue. All those guards at the outposts. Part of it was self defense, but not all of it. She could admit that she had gotten some inner personal satisfaction whenever the bodies dropped and no alarm was raised. It had been so mindless, like a game. 

More than a few times she felt dizzy and nearly lost consciousness, needing gentle coaxing from Joseph to remember to breathe through the pain and not hold her breath. It seemed like an eternity later by the time John had finished, and it was probably because gluttony had the most damn letters. He ran one final swipe of wet cloth across his handiwork before announcing he was finished. She thought about asking for a clean cloth to dip in water and place on her forehead, but it seemed like a silly request after everything she had been through. A light sheen of sweat coated her, but knowing it was over was the best reward for going through it. Grace slowly sat back up, careful not to let her back lean against the chair. 

"How do you feel?" Joseph asked while John wheeled his tray back over to the work bench. 

"A little relieved. Like this was a good place to start making things different." She said breathlessly. Her honesty was rewarded with a quick peck on the forehead, her face heating up at the thought of how long it had been since she'd had a chance to properly bathe in something besides a sink. If she smelled or came off grimy then Joseph made no look or comment on it. 

When he went around the back of her chair to check out John's work himself, she froze at the look John was giving them from across the chamber. She was used to him being annoyed or irritable with a topping of sarcasm. But no one had looked at her so hatefully, so enviously, in all her life. His hands were frozen on the edge of the work bench where he had stopped in putting away his tattooing equipment. His brow was furrowed again and a frown graced his mouth as he observed the two of them. He had already let her know he suspected something earlier, maybe while Joseph was here they should say something. Or was waiting until he was in a calmer place better? How long would it even take for that to happen? 

"We can leave this off here today, Deputy. We don't want to leave nothing for tomorrow." The fake chipperness of his voice was grating, bringing her out of her thoughts. John and Joseph nodded to one another before the former took the soiled cloth and dingy water out of the room. 

When the door closed she counted to ten to give him time to walk down the hall before looking behind her up at Joseph, who was humming again as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

"Joe, I think he knows." A predictable quirk of the eyebrow was his response and nothing more, so she continued, "About _us_. He definitely senses it even if he has no proof. There is only one thing left for me to confess, anyway. We should tell him."

While her heart was beating wildly in her chest at the thought of it, Joseph just sighed quietly and slowly walked around in front of her once more. He was either very confident or underestimating John's own wrath. He had been obsessed with hunting her down after her teams failed arrest. He'd had her shot with bliss bullets and abducted, forcefully baptizing her, and they clashed heads constantly whenever she was in the Valley. Even just from what she saw in his eyes moments ago, finding out would feel like a loss to him. Another metaphorical slap in the face where is brother accepted an outsider but still chastised him. There would be no good outcome. 

"I was not going to let him mark this final sin on you, my Grace. It is one that we shared together. We should share this as well." 

For the second time that day she found Joseph kneeling in front of her. She was aware that he hadn't given her an outright answer, but any reply she had was interrupted by his hands reaching forward and taking hold of her hips, pulling her forward to be seated at the edge of the chair. Her legs walled him on either side, and she found she couldn't conjure any coherent thought as his hands trailed down her thighs and he reached into the pocket of his vest. 

He procured the switchblade that he had used on himself all those days ago, and on herself as she had slept. 

"Joseph, what are yo--" 

He cut her off, voice quiet and clear in the emptiness of the chamber. 

"Together under the eyes of God we partook of each other. I believe you have been made for me, and that the gates of Eden will open up to us both, together." His eyes strayed down to the switchblade in his hand, which he flicked open after looking back at her again, "Despite the love we share, it was a sin in His eyes. We are not yet fully each others to have until we are espoused. In this and only this was it wrong. Will you atone, as I have atoned, Grace?" 

She found herself torn between a fluttery feeling making her stomach do flip-flops, and the surprise of what he suggested. Of what he was going to do. He had mentioned it that morning on Dutch's Island, that they each needed to atone. That they were meant to be and it would happen again. Grace recalled being nervous that he would hurt her as he had hurt himself, but as she was learning, a few days could drastically change her perception of things. He wouldn't hurt her just to bring her pain, and having him do it would take away the need to involve John. She licked her lips, meeting his expectant gaze and wanting to lean forward and capture his mouth once more. Instead she snapped out of her thoughts long enough to nod at him, leaning back a bit to expose her lower stomach to him, just above the hem of her jeans. Her shirt still lay discarded on the floor by her chair. 

"Only if we can match." 

His pupils dilated, the pretty blue of his irises barely visible as he leaned down. Without breaking their eye contact he pressed a single soft kiss to her stomach, where he would mark her as he had marked himself. Heat shot straight between her legs at the sight of him, prostrating himself in front of her when she had given him permission to go ahead with it. She felt a flush settle on her cheeks as he pulled away and licked his lips.

"Then confess it to me, Grace. Say it." He whispered, eyes wide and focused on her. 

"I-I have sinned." She shifted her hips forward a little more, thinking for a moment that the person she was now was almost like a complete stranger compared to the Deputy that had first arrived, "I sinned with you, Joseph." 

"Yes." He nodded, placing the sharp tip of the knife against her skin. She was tempted to look at it but couldn't take her eyes off of him, even when he made the first cut. Grace gasped at the pain, a gentle sting emanating from the wound. It was only as deep as it had to be to leave a decently visible scar, he gave her no unnecessary pain like John had. He was looking right at her, fully present to her every step of the way. When he finished the ' _L_ ' he hovered over the next spot and held there, looking at her expectantly as she began to pant. 

"And- And I liked it. I think about it...all the time." She confessed, trembling subtly under his complete attention. His free hand gripped her thigh, his own breathing becoming labored as he cut the next letter into her. She needed no prompting when he finished and readied for the next. Grace could hardly believe that she was enjoying this, but something about the tolerable pain and talking dirty to the priest on his knees in front of her overtook all sense that she most likely had gone criminally insane.

"I want more. I wanna do it again."

"And you know this is a sin?" He hissed, gripping the hilt of his switchblade tightly, struggling against his want for her just as much. She let him carve the ' _S_ ' before continuing, he did so reverently, as if it were an honor. 

"I know it is. But, I need-- _want_ you."

Grace subconsciously canted her hips towards him, making him hold onto her thigh more tightly so as not to make the final letter a mess. 

"Why?"

"Because you fit me perfectly." She echoed the words he had told her himself, words he made sure she had understood by the time that they left the small employee bunk room. A tear escaped her eye, borne of the stinging pain on her stomach as he carved the last letter as well as her own admission that she wanted to give this a real go. Well, whatever that meant considering their circumstances. 

As soon as he finished the last letter with the switchblade, she heard it clatter to the floor and felt Joseph's hands grabbing her hips, pressing kisses like individual apologies against where the blood trickled lightly from her ' _LUST_ '. He paid no mind to it, not bothered in the slightest, solely focused on trailing blood coated kisses up her abdomen, her neck. He placed a slow, warm kiss against her throat like a promise and continued up her jaw to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him as they kissed again. 

She could taste the metallic tang of her blood on his lips, but she didn't care. It did sinful things to her to know what she tasted like upon him. Some of the blood from her wound was probably coming off onto his vest, but there was no helping her need to eliminate all space between them. Joseph whispered sweet nothings between kisses, telling her how well she had done, that he would prove to her everything she had said. Grace went to wrap her legs around his waist but froze at an angry voice interrupting their moment. 

"And just _what_ is this?" John's scathing tone cut through the silence like his knife had cut through her. Her head immediately snapped up to look at him while Joseph took his time giving her one last loving kiss on the side of her mouth. She had to admire how ballsy it was for Joseph to take his time peeling himself away from her, turning halfway not to look at John, but to find his switchblade and fold it away. Once he had tucked it once more in his vest pocket, then and only then did stand up and turn to face his brother. 

"John. Grace has no need for further confession." 

Even as a successful lawyer it seemed John had his moments where he was left with nothing immediate to respond with. His mouth gaped open slightly as he tried to find the right words to convey the outrage on his face. Not only had Joseph not told him about Grace, but he was probably irate at having one of his most important confessions finished without his involvement at all. 

If Grace didn't think he was such a jerk then she might have felt bad for him. It kind of hit close to home for her to think about a younger sibling that just wanted attention. Grace stood up from the metal chair, only slightly wobbly from being seated for so long, and decided it would be prudent to put space between her and the two of them. She picked up her shirt from the ground and tried to look casual as she buttoned it up, covering Joseph's mark to her and the red trail of kisses fading slowly up her stomach. This was definitely not one of the way she envisioned John finding out. 

"She is a _snake_ who has done nothing- _nothing_ but try and ruin us!" 

Joseph reached his arms out, urging John to calm down and come closer. He looked regretfully at his brother, whom he let get away with so much and tried so hard to protect. John, however, looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel in several places. 

"Grace has given herself willingly. She has completed her confession, John. You must temper yourself." He scolded, stepping forward to close the distance between them. Grace tried to make herself as invisible as she could, her presence only serving to exacerbate the situation. 

"She _shot_ at me! The Deputy has taken the Henbane _and_ the Valley! How could she be so easily accepted to Eden? Why must the Gates be shut to me as easily as they were opened to her?" He passed by the workbench, pointing at Grace over Joseph's shoulder. Joe moved to the side to keep himself interposed between the two of them. John was livid, she could feel his hurt pride without needing to look at the expression on his face. 

"What did I say when you tried to baptize her, John?" 

The younger brother grimaced, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, though it served only to make it messier. She took her focus off of their confrontation and looked towards the door John had come in. The one he had left open when he entered and saw them. She started listening again but had already missed too much to follow wholly. 

"...I am your brother!" 

"And I love you, John. Do not let your sin get the better of you." 

Any comment Joseph made came off unintentionally as condescending, and John was taking every word with a grain of salt. She never meant to come between them, did not want to make Joe's brothers feel like they were inferior. Step by little step she edged towards the door as the brothers clashed, needing to remove herself from the escalating argument. Before she got too far John tore his angry gaze from Joseph, eyes widening as he noticed her slow movement.

"Oh no. _No_ , you are staying _right_ here!" He started to take quick steps in her direction only to be stopped by Joseph, who grabbed him by the shoulders and stood firmly in front of him. They argued more about her trustworthiness and how it would be a mistake to let her go. Her attention wandered away from their arguing, planning to slip away at the an opportune moment. She just had to go down the hallways and reach the stairwells to get to the top. It shouldn't be too hard to stay in cover until she came close to the surface. 

Grace locked eyes with Joseph when he glanced briefly back at her, still holding his brother at bay.

It was quick, but he nodded to her in understanding and turned his focus back to John. She didn't need to be told twice, bolting out the door and running towards where the painted arrows on the wall indicated stairs. 

The last thing she heard before she got too far to hear was the loud sound of something falling over and the shouts of two siblings trying to get through to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your support, your comments mean the world <3


	20. Stem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly has this story reached 20 chapters already?? Thanks for sticking with me this far :)

It did not take as long as she thought it would to escape from John's Gate.

The whole situation could have been avoided if Joseph had been able to announce that she was free to leave over the loudspeakers. However, since the two brothers were currently embroiled in a little sibling rivalry, Grace had to sneak her way up to the entrance and slip out. That meant going up _a lot_ of stairs and hiding behind _a lot_ of crates. There were still too many peggies by the bunker's entrance and in the courtyard for stealth to keep working, so she made it as far as she could before breaking out into a run, alerting nearby guards to her presence and ending her time in captivity with a refreshing chase into the nearby woods. 

That part was the hardest, her new wounds protested the sudden stretching and jostling as she fell back into the familiar rhythm of running. Grace hopped over some short cement partitions, scraping her palms a bit but not losing her momentum. She would have to taunt John at a later point about how his guards apparently couldn't aim for the life of them, her heart pounded in her chest as she disappeared into the cover of the treeline as quickly as possible, bullets burying themselves in the dirt and tree trunks around her as she made her escape. She had absolutely nothing to defend herself with since all of her things were stashed at the outpost where she'd hidden them, so she made that her destination.

She didn't let herself stop, even after the voices following after her had faded into the distance and the shots had stopped firing. Grace passed by the quiet dock where they had made the exchange a few days ago, but didn't allow herself a moment to linger. Thankfully most of the journey from John's Gate to the outpost was downhill, and Grace managed to make it to US Auto a little over ten minutes later. The muscles in her legs burned as the result of being stuck unmoving in a chair for days. She skidded to a stop before the Resistance members could see her and crouched down behind a tree to catch her breath. 

Grace took stock of herself, making sure none of her new sins would be seen underneath her flannel. The only one she had to worry about was the ' _Sloth_ ' on her arm, she wouldn't be able to wear a short sleeved shirt until she was sure if Hudson told them what transpired. With luck they would think she did it solely to free her fellow officer. While that was partly the reason for it, it would also be enough to keep them from figuring out she'd turned herself in because she actually wanted confession. She licked her palm, which was gross and she knew it, to wipe at her face and make sure none of Joseph's bloody kisses were stamped anywhere. 

When Grace was satisfied that she looked normal she stood and walked casually the rest of the way, waving at the Resistance members cheerfully like she always did. The patrols out front greeted her and the members in the garage all stopped for a moment to come say hello, everyone giving her a pat her on the back ( _ow_ ) and hugs of congratulations ( _double ow_ ). They all thanked her for getting Hudson back, saying that it was a good thing she had kicked ass and escaped on her own. Apparently since the trade-off, John was pushing his forces back against the Resistance. So that, they explained, was why they hadn't had enough members to spare for a rescue operation. 

She squashed down the feeling of resentment, recalling how many times she had single handedly rescued other members. But she resolved herself to be understanding. She had no right to be hurt, anyways. Grace had willingly put herself in that position and hadn't let other members know about the plan beforehand, and that had been her fault. After learning Hudson was being kept safe with the Rye's, she hoisted herself up to the area above the garage's office and took her travel pack from its hiding place. Slipping her black hoodie that was stuffed inside and hopping back down, all she could think about was a shower and a soft mattress. This made her next course of action to head to Fall's End and crash in her room above the bar. 

Before she left, of course, she stopped at the trader table out front and bought a used radio to replace the one that John had confiscated. She cranked it to Fall's End's frequency and hopped in a car, not eager to walk all the way there in her current condition. Her body was probably mad at her, but her mind felt blissfully clear - and not in the crappy drugged way. Now that her confession was done she would immediately start changing the way she did things, and she would follow wherever that lead her. 

\-----

There was no need to worry about anyone seeing her sins beneath the hoodie, letting Grace feel more at ease as she walked into the Spread Eagle and gave Mary May a hug. Afterwards she was immediately pushed into the bathroom with a new change of clothes, under orders that she was not to come out until she was clean. She grimaced as she peeled off her sweaty clothing, putting them in a small pile on the floor. Had she really been making out with Joseph while she was this much of a mess? She didn't want to think about it, not if he didn't seem to care at the time. 

One lukewarm shower later and Grace felt brand new, scrubbed of all blood, sweat and oil that had coated her over the last few days. She slipped into the clothes Mary May had given her, heart sinking as she saw the t-shirt she'd been given. She'd taken off the now dirty bandages and thrown them away before stepping into the shower. Now there was nothing to cover the wound on her arm, so she bunched up the gross pile of her old clothes and carried it, letting them provide cover for her inner arms. Stepping out of the bathroom, she made a beeline for her bedroom lest she get drawn into a conversation with anybody. 

It wasn't until she was in her room with the door locked and the blinds drawn that she deposited her dirty clothes and sat down on the mattress. It wasn't an expensive one by any means, but after being taped to a metal chair for days it might as well have been a cloud in heaven. She set her pack down and quietly, as if anyone hearing her fiddle with her radio would know what she was doing, tuned to frequency to thirty three and set it on her nightstand. 

The sun was setting and she could hear a few more patrons enter the bar below her, along with the clinking of beer bottles and Casey's raucous laughter. It felt good to be back, so she lay back and let herself unwind before lifting her shirt and taking a peek at Joseph's work on her lower stomach. 

For a second her eyesight swam as the long, bright red cuts looked back at her. Had she really let him do that? In the moment it felt right, it had felt good. In more ways than one. She still couldn't quite believe she'd gone through with it, let alone be free enough now that she could reflect on it. Grace hadn't been the type of lover to suggest mixing pain with pleasure, but if her final mark was anything to go by she had probably been missing out. She tentatively reached out brushed her fingers over the still raw letters, remembering the look on his face as she told him...oh _God_ she had practically declared her unending love for him. Though he obviously was as affected as she had been, so maybe she had learned something scandalous about Joseph Seed today. 

Mentally slapping herself, she laid down fully and covered her face with her hands.

What had she gotten herself into? She was still the Deputy, but not the same one that had moved here from Missoula. Too many things had changed. She may have never served actual time in the military, but nearly every person here was embroiled in a war with Eden's Gate. The cult had _air support_

Confessing had felt good, though. She wasn't discontented with herself anymore, she had let everything that was consuming her out and it was replaced with a new sense of purpose. After all that had happened, the stress would have consumed her. That was why she couldn't regret what she did, because she couldn't judge herself like she would someone who was under entirely different circumstances. 

__

__

Grace closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

\-----

In the morning Grace was dragged from a good twelve hour sleep to the sound of someone banging on her door. She frowned and groaned, telling whoever it was to go away as she pulled the blanket up over her head. Still half asleep, she let out a very unladylike growl when the knocking resumed. 

"Get your lazy ass up, Dep!" 

She blew out a sigh and some less than pleasant mutterings as she threw back the sheets and stood up. Rubbing at her eyes as she went for the door, she clumsily unlocked it. Before she could even take her hand off the doorknob it swung open to reveal Armstrong, looking stern as usual. For a moment she stood there blearily, swaying with residual sleepiness. The last time Armstrong had been here they had an argument, not to mention the time before that, when they'd bickered at each other about destroying Faith's Gate. The sniper had been the last person she thought would find calling on her.

"Gonna look for more cult paraphernalia? Go for it." Grace muttered tonelessly, leaving the door and depositing herself back onto her mattress. She yawned and scratched her head while she began the long and arduous process of convincing herself to stay awake and get dressed for the day. The trunk with her things was right at the end of the bed, but that would involve needing to move again.

Armstrong stepped into the room, keeping the door open behind her. She opened her mouth to say something but her eyes strayed to the ' _Slo_ ' that wasn't covered by the t-shirt she had put on. Confused, Grace followed her friends line of sight to her arm.

"Oh. Once marked, always marked, right?" She shrugged, poking gently at the now healing letters. 

"That where you been? That bastard got you in his bunker again?" 

"Didn't hear? I made a trade. Hudson for me. I hauled ass outta there yesterday."

Armstrong shifted her feet, looking unsure of what to say to that. The memory of their last encounter, of Armstrong throwing the Book of Joseph at her, still hurt to think about. Begrudgingly she shrugged towards her.

"That shit sucks." She said. 

"Don't be. I'm free now, aren't I?" Okay, so maybe not free in the sense that Armstrong was probably thinking, but none of the Resistance would get it. They would hate her. All her friends, they would understand her apprehension about the pile of bodies stacking up at her feet, but not about sleeping with the enemy - whether she stayed a neutral party or not. Maybe it would be absurd to try and find some neutrality in this situation. Even Dutch, who had kept to himself on his island, ended up picking a side. 

"I wanted to apologize, but then no one saw you for a few days. And I'm not good with this shit, so, sorry. We good?" 

Grace sighed, knowing that would be the best apology she'd get from her socially awkward partner. It seemed way too easy after the disagreements they had been having, but she didn't want to argue with her friend anymore. So she simply nudged the trunk at the end of her bed with her toe, "I'll forgive you if you get my clothes so I don't have to." 

\-----

Later on Grace and Armstrong had made a list of the outposts to check up on the next day, intent on getting back in the rhythm of doing Resistance work again. Afterwards they both ended up going to the Rye's for Kim's second baby shower, which Armstrong had told her was an impromptu surprise only days in the making. They stuffed themselves into a truck with Mary May and Casey, arriving and parking near the open hangar. Music drifted towards them and the get together seemed to be in full swing, making Grace feel a twinge of sadness. Yeah, she had been locked up underground, but she still felt guilty that she hadn't been here to help put it all together. That, and the thought that as she had been with John and Joseph in their bunker, life seemed to roll on seamlessly without her. 

She knew this was a selfish, bitter way to think, so Grace kept telling herself that this was amazing thing to put together in the middle of everything. The people here were too resilient to let the peggies take every bit of happiness from them. 

The hangar doors were open as usual, there were familiar faces sitting at the bar, and a line of people waiting for a chance at the arcade machine. There was a decent spread of food brought in from people all over Holland Valley, as appetizing as can be considering most people had their homes (and thus kitchens) taken from them. She smiled at the pink balloons floating everywhere, at the comfort of old rock playing from a small boom box. This felt so normal, a lot of effort had been put into making this a special day. At least one that would distract from the fact that John Seed had taken their baby supplies after the last shower, which called for this second one to be necessary. She found Nick and Kim at a picnic table, letting out a rare squeal as she rushed to Kim, enveloping her in a hug before crouching down to talk to her swollen belly. 

"Hey there! Who's the best future pilot?" She cooed. From his seat at the table, Nick shook his head and Grace realized he had a pile of deflated blue balloons in front of him that he was working on one by one. 

"Any son of mine--"

"It's a girl--" 

"Any _kid_ of mine is gonna be the greatest pilot, but they'll have to get through _me_ first." 

Grace laughed with them and enjoyed the shower, the hours passing by too quickly while she enjoyed herself. It was a heady mix, feeling unburdened by her confession and the love she felt for her friends. By the time everything was winding down she'd helped blow up some blue balloons for Nick, keep a list of presents people had managed to find throughout the war torn county, and even got a turn at the arcade game before stuffing her face. She was so hungry, and that damned bland oatmeal Joseph fed her hadn't been cutting it. 

Thankfully the last of the day passed without interruption, no attacks reported that made her need to leave and go help. No peggie trucks coming up the drive to take away the generous gifts people had bought for Kim. The sun had just about finished setting when Grace stood up from watching Nick and Kim slow dance, her big belly keeping him at a distance and making it look like they were at prom. It was adorable. She left the hangar with her drink cup and walked towards the house. Most people had either gone home or were still trying to keep the party going, so it was a quiet place to sit herself down and take out her radio. 

"Hey Joseph, you there?" A full minute passed before he responded, replying just as she was about to tap her foot through the porch step in impatience. 

"Grace. I tried you earlier but you must have been sleeping."

"I slept like a baby. Speaking of _babies_ -" She said quickly, setting her cup down on the step below her and getting right to the point. "-I recently remembered that your lovely little brother had taken all of the Nick and Kim's baby things. Got any reason for taking a _goddamn_ crib from my unborn Goddaughter?" 

"Do not curse, it is a vice." He replied smoothly, making Grace's eyes roll up, "And John has told me that they would be joining Eden's Gate soon. Their belongings will be here for them when they arrive." 

"Yeah well I hate to break it to you, but John's a little overconfident. They don't have any plans to join up." 

"We have many women and children, and the supplies to help them thrive and grow in our time underground. When the times comes--" 

"That's super great Joseph, but when is that exactly? This baby is probably gonna get here before whenever the Collapse happens, and I'm sure you don't want to starve or deprive people before they even have a chance." 

He was silent for awhile, contemplating. Most of the time if their conversation involved just tthe two of them, Grace would steer clear of topics that would set either of them off. That was their agreed upon terms when they started using this frequency - that Joseph wouldn't force his cult propaganda down her throat and she wouldn't bash Eden's Gate too badly when they spoke.

"Grace, tell them it is in their best interest to join us." 

She snorted and shook her head, waving her hand dismissively even though he could not see the gesture, "Like shit I am-"

"Language."

"--you can't honestly expect me to try and convert my friends for you? Because if you do, you got another thing comin' pal, you are out of your min--" 

"Grace."

"--if you think I'm gonna become your little _missionary_ and--"

"Grace."

"--can't _believe_ you'd even ask me, right when things were getting so good betwe--"

"I will see to it that the...'baby things' John took from them are returned."

"--so _buckle up_ , buddy! --Wait. What did you say?" She paused, catching her breath after her long, scolding rant. Had the lack of oxygen to her brain cause her to mishear him? 

"I said I will have John return what he took. We have more than enough maternity supplies, and Kim Rye seems to be the only woman who is with child left that hasn't come to us." 

Grace's shoulders slumped, dumbfounded at how easy he made things, but disappointed that she didn't get to argue with him some more. 

"You should know that stealing that kinda stuff is low, even for a cult." She grumbled, taking a sip from her cup. 

"We take from the surface to preserve underground. Everything will be provided for to those join with us, and anything left above ground will burn with the world." 

"And if my friends don't atone? What does it matter if you just lock them out anyways?" 

For every second he did not answer her, her anger grew. She opened her mouth to speak just as he responded.

"There will come a time, soon, when they need to decide. To start taking the coming reckoning seriously."

"I thought God loved all his children?" She mocked, bouncing her knee to vent her irritation. Ever since her time in confession she found herself acutely aware of how angry she tended to get and how often. Especially after sitting exposed to the scrutiny of the two Seed brothers, she'd become conscious of every emotion she displayed. It was no wonder that John had known her sin right away. She sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose, realizing the last thing she wanted right now after such a nice night was to argue with him on the radio. He didn't reply to her goading and she felt like a child all over again, so she switched subjects.

"What happened with John after I left?" 

"He has a lot of pent up anger, Grace. He does not have a pure soul, but few do. When he was finally subdued we talked about his demons, and he is taking steps to lighten himself."

"Do I want to know what that means?" 

"I would assume not." 

"O-kay then. Well, I'm thankful you let me ditch out. I obviously made it back alright."

"Good. Know that after I dealt with John I told my flock not to actively seek you out. So long as you keep true to your confession."

"I'm not gonna be killing mindlessly anymore. But it's not for you, it's for me."

"I am glad that you have found peace within yourself. I must go. I wish to see you again, I miss you already." 

She felt her cheeks heat up, caught off guard by his open affection. Of course he would be just as unabashed about his feelings for her as he was with everything else. People tried so hard to understand what was going on in his head, but to her he was like an open book. After stuttering for a few seconds she managed a coherent reply. 

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Like, tomorrow...ish. Me too." Grace was, in fact, an adult in her late twenties. Though she had been in relationships before, none had come about so quickly, with such intensity and ardor. And definitely not one with the leader of a doomsday _cult_. Grace felt magnetized to him, it was unlike anything she'd had with anyone else to date. Always meeting his gaze, always coming in closer, unable to back away. He let her spill herself out to him and he helped her put herself back together, just as she could look at his zealous intensity and still see the man he was. She wanted to have...something with him. Grace was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't realize that she'd left Joseph hanging for a couple silent seconds. His voice eventually pulled her from her reverie. 

"Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you will make a perfect Godmother." 

Grace closed her eyes, holding the radio to her cheek as she smiled against it like a teenage girl, whispering. 

"...Thank you." 

For the second night in a row she was not haunted by bad dreams.


	21. Reform

The next morning she showered again and made sure she had everything she needed before heading down the hall and knocking on another bedroom door. There was the sound of sheets rustling and a voice telling her to come in. Grace cracked the door open enough for her to step inside before closing it behind her again. She stood for a moment, taking in the sight of her fellow officer for the first time since the trade off. Hudson looked pretty beat up, but all things considered she was alive and in one piece. Most people didn't leave John's Gate without having lost any skin, limbs, or eventually their life. Grace mumbled a soft hello, gesturing for permission before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Like I got trampled by a herd of cattle. But I'm alive, so pretty damn good." 

Grace smiled just a little, it was hard to act cheery when she knew that if she hadn't gone off to the Henbane, then she could have rescued her sooner. The Resistance didn't seem to put too much effort into specifically rescuing the people that had come here to arrest Joseph. Hopefully once they recognized how strong her old partner could be they would try and get Staci or Burke back. Staci, she'd learned from Dutch, had been taken up into the Whitetail Mountains by Jacob Seed. There had been no word about what happened to Burke, although she wasn't his biggest fan, so what had happened to him after Faith died was no concern of hers. 

At least now that she was free Hudson had been able to shower and get some medical care over the last few days, finally looking more closely to the woman Grace knew.

"I'm sorry, Joey. I should have come sooner." 

"Are you serious? Don't be. I took guts to do what you did." She said, shifting to sit up and lean back against the headrest, "I was supposed to be the one looking after you, but you ended up saving me. Thanks, Rook." 

Grace reached forward and grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Hudson chuckled. 

"Plus, I heard you got Faith out of the way. You've been busy, I'm gonna have to catch up to you." 

With a sigh she pulled her hand back, running it through her hair as she contemplated what to say. In the end her only real option was to stick with the truth, she didn't need anything else on her conscience. 

"I took most of the Henbane, but I didn't do Faith in. No one was there when it happened, she was just found." 

Hudson nodded slowly, considering the information. After that Grace began to fill her in on most things that had happened over the last few months, realizing with a start that Hudson had been with John since the night their chopper had crashed and knew none of it. That took up a good chunk of time before Grace gave Hudson a seated hug and stood up, about to turn and leave when she felt her arm being gripped tightly. She halted and looked back at Hudson questioningly, her friends grip on her wrist unyielding. There was a wrath in her eyes that Grace instantly recognized like her own. It was a familiar look, one that had haunted her own reflection for a long time. 

"We're gonna kill that sonovabitch. That John _fucking_ Seed, if I lay eyes on him again I'll be the last thing he sees. Him and his creepy psycho brother." 

Grace went rigid, looking into the all consuming wrath in Hudson's eyes and believing her. In her mind she saw two brothers arguing in depths of their bunker, she thought of those two laying dead on the concrete. Never able to reach the new world together, never able to resolve their issues with each other. Grace shuddered when she thought of how the eldest Seed would react to his brothers being dead. That might be the messiest outcome of all. She frowned and tried to imagine how it would feel if Hudson succeeded and Joseph ended up dead, or if anyone succeeded for that matter. Never touching him or hearing the cadence of his voice again, never falling asleep on his chest while he stroked her hair. It did unspeakable things to her heart, making it clench painfully in her chest until she had to force herself to stop thinking about it. For the first time she was afraid of what would happen if the Resistance actually won and decided to kill him. Would she be able to just stand by and let justice be served? Would her voice be enough if she was the only one who wanted to keep him alive? 

Hudson tugged on her arm and Grace was brought back into the here and now, refocusing on her face. 

"He would come by just to stand and watch. The sick fuck. I wouldn't tell them shit, I don't need to be _saved_." She sniffed, letting go of Grace's arm and wiping at the few tears that had escaped. Grace saw too much of herself in the crying woman, so she took a steadying breath and looked at it from a calmer perspective, not willing to get worked up over something that hadn't come to pass yet. She thought of the voice that she'd needed to hear when she was brimming with hate. So when she spoke, her tone was as calm as she'd ever heard it. 

"Why didn't you?" 

Hudson blinked and stopped wiping at her face, looking over at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Why didn't you confess?" 

Hudson looked at her strangely, probably wondering if she meant it seriously or if she was asking why she hadn't just made something up. Her eyes wandered from Grace's to her collar, covered by a simple green button up shirt, though edges of her tattoos peeked out the tiniest bit. Her gaze traveled down to Grace's arm, looking at the mostly exposed sin carved there. Unwilling to meet Grace's gaze again, perhaps not liking what she saw there, Hudson swallowed and looked away. A small interaction that was so small but so similar to the earlier interactions between Joseph and herself, jagged wrath clashing against a serene calm. 

"I don't know. I could have made something up, but I felt like they'd know somehow. And I didn't confess for real because I don't owe those fuckers anything." 

Grace nodded, understanding the anger, the stubbornness. She, too, used to be indignant about the way she lived her life. She had assumed that she had all the answers and that she could not be wrong, but life had chewed her up and spit her out in a bliss filled haze. Then and only then had she realized that she needed to change her way of living in order to keep from losing herself. She wouldn't pretend to know what Hudson needed to be able to find that same peaceful place as she had, and unlike the cult she wouldn't try and force it upon her. 

They said their goodbyes and Grace hurried downstairs to meet with Armstrong in the kitchen. 

The plan for the day that they had put together the afternoon before was to make the rounds on some outposts in the Valley. Things were heating up again with John as he pushed back to reclaim territory, so they decided to pay a couple of outposts a visit and see how things were running. Before they left she stopped in to see the trader across the street, making sure she had some throwing knives and ammo for her silenced 1911, and trading her lighter aluminum bat for a heavier wooden one. She wasn't planning on taking lives, but there were ways to defend herself without killing. The gun would only be used in emergencies, she couldn't go around the county with no weapon - she was trying to be merciful, not stupid. 

Their first stop would be to check the outposts closest to Fall's End besides US Auto, which Grace had been at yesterday. Kellett Cattle Co. and Sunrise Farm were first up, then they would spend the next few days working their way up along the river separating the Valley from the Henbane, ending up close to Dutch's island at the Gardenview Packing Facility. It was also the first time that Armstrong and her had teamed up again since she had initially fled from the Valley. She hoped that by doing this together they may be able to close the large gap that seemed to have appeared between them. 

"I don't get why you don't just wanna drive the whole way." Armstrong mumbled from her place in the driver's seat. The rumbling of the car made the little hula-girl bobble head bounce around on the dashboard. Grace had insisted that they use a vehicle to get to Kellett's and then proceed to all the others on foot. It wasn't the fastest choice, and Armstrong wasn't too enthused about it, but half of her accomplishments wouldn't have happened if she hadn't wandered through the thick of the county. There was only so much help she could provide if she stuck to the main roads. 

"I actually take out more dangerous wildlife that way, there a lot of people using the woods for cover and they are always getting attacked by wild animals. And I even get to pet nice trader's dogs." There was a silence while Grace went over the pros and cons, when she continued Armstrong sighed loudly from the driver's seat. " _Plus_ , you find more people being kidnapped when I'm walking in the middle of everything. In a car it all just flies by, you would never know someone was being hurt just beyond the treeline when you pass by it at," She leaned over and checked the speedometer, "...40 miles an hour." Grace explained, turning her head to look out the passenger window and watch said beautiful countryside blur by. 

"If you say so." Was the only reply she received. She had apologized to Grace yesterday, but remained somewhat stiff in their communication with each other. And whether Armstrong liked it or not, it was true. The more she helped people the more she got leads on things like prepper stashes and locations where people were being held captive. So, while it cut her travel time by over half, Grace was more of an on-foot gal. 

They pulled into the dirt drive leading up to Kellett Cattle Co., parking near a tractor on the right side. The two of them hopped out and gave the keys to the vehicle over to the guy running the shop directly across from their parking spot. There was a small ranch house and a trailer on the left side of the property, they checked the house and perimeter, Armstrong using her scope to see if there were any peggies skulking close by while Grace talked to the Resistance members there about the status of the outpost. The barn and stables were clear, and before they left Grace had agreed to help them make sure all of the fencing for the cows and bulls were holding strong. 

Much to Armstrong's dismay, Grace spent the next half hour herding some displaced cows back into the cow pen, running alongside the chickens and pigs to corral them in the right direction. It would have been easier if running didn't make her tattoos and cuts smart, but the pain wasn't too distracting. It was nice to do something simple that could help out and not hurt anybody. When that was finished she brought over the wood to repair a hole in the fencing before looking at Armstrong, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as she squinted at her partner leaning against a tree. 

"You gonna help at all?" She called. 

Armstrong shook her head, adjusting the strap of her rifle, "Nah, I came to do security shit, not be a farmer." 

"It's called lending a hand. What's the point in coming to these outposts if we just look around and leave?" She countered, waving Armstrong off when she made no move to reply or come help. She began the process of sliding the wood into the already dug holes in the dirt, hammering them in snugly with a small mallet before nailing boards across them horizontally. By the time she finished it was a little after noon and sweat was beading on her brow, her arms aching pleasantly. Any exertion on her muscles was welcome, particularly after her most recent experience with not being able to move. She wiped her sweat away and chugged a water bottle as they said goodbye and made for their next stop. 

Sunrise Farm was next, just a ways north of Kellett's. They began their walk to it in relative silence. Grace struggled to understand what was happening with her partner, casting furtive glances towards the sniper, trying to gauge what she was thinking. She thought everything would be better after the sudden apology yesterday, but the more they spent time together the more she noticed that Armstrong was still guarded around her. In the car earlier she hadn't even tried practicing a joke on her like she used to. For awhile she remained pondering this before a finger tapped her shoulder and motioned for them both to crouch down. Grace looked as her gaze was directed along the shoulder of the road up ahead of them. 

It looked like a peggie's vehicle was smoking, taking out her binoculars she tagged only two of them, along with a civilian sitting on the side of the road with their hands tied behind their back. One peggie was working beneath the hood of the car, and the other paced idly around their captive. Grace put her binoculars away and did a double take at her partner, seeing her already lining up a shot with her sniper rifle. Quickly she grabbed the barrel and pushed it down, causing the shot to go off and land in the brush just ahead of them instead. 

Armstrong lowered her weapon and glared at her, the first genuine emotion Grace had gotten from her all day. 

"You don't need to do that." She reprimanded in a whisper, backing up because the shot had rang out and alerted the two men at the truck. Why in the world didn't she put a silencer on that thing? The cultists looked around for a bit and searched their surrounding area, not straying too far from the car before heading back. Good thing the two of them had been too far for them to accidentally stumble upon. Grace sighed in exasperation but froze at the look Armstrong was giving her. Looking at her like she'd gone insane and had a few screws missing. 

"What are you looking at me like that for?" 

"I had the shot. I coulda had em' both dead by now. What did you do that for?" 

Grace brandished her new bat and met her friends vitriol with reserve and determination. 

"Not every problem has to be solved with a bullet, Grace." 

Armstrong snorted in derision, tugging the cap of her hat and moving forward among the trees. "I'm not gonna tell you again, don't touch my gun." 

"Don't shoot anybody, just let me take care of this." She hissed, wishing she could move faster as she crouched and headed towards the broken down car alongside the trigger happy sniper. 

They reached a 20 meter distance and kept behind cover. Grace commanded Armstrong to stay put and watch out for any assistance they might have called for as she snuck up on the man working at the hood first. With one sure swing he grunted quietly and fell to the ground unconscious. She immediately crouched back down and rounded the side of the car, holding a finger up to her lips when the captive caught sight of her. Before she could move out of cover and end this, the remaining peggie turned away from the civilian, causing Grace retreat back around the hood of the car. She was looking around for a rock to throw when a weak voice broke the silence. 

"P-please mister, can I just have s-some water?" She peeked around the front fender and saw that the peggie had turned around at his request, beginning to berate him about how he didn't deserve any. Their eyes locked and she knew he had bought her this opportunity, so she crept forward and gave him a good hit on the back of his head. He hit the ground, his rant cutting short as he went to dream land. Grace set down her bat and made quick work of liberating the poor civilian. He thanked her profusely, telling her that they had deserved worse than what she gave them. She made sure he disappeared into the forest safely before picking up her bat and turning around - only to smack right into Armstrong's chest. 

"It would have been easier to kill them." She chided. 

"What's right is not always easy." Grace replied, taking a step back out of her space and rubbing her nose. 

"And _not_ killing peggies is the right thing? Since when?" 

"It was _always_ wrong to kill people! We just...forgot it somewhere along the way." 

"Yeah, probably around the same time they started burning our houses down and kidnapping us." 

Grace frowned. It was true that on the night the reaping began all of Joseph's followers had gone through Hope County like a forest fire. Harshly, leaving nothing behind in their wake, taking everything and everyone they could into the safety of their bunkers. Eden's Gate would always be at fault for starting this, for choosing this route instead of keeping to themselves like they had in the beginning. 

"But this doesn't end well for anyone if it's just a battle to see who has the biggest pile of bodies. Right?" She asked, wishing Armstrong could look in her eyes and understand like Joseph could. But all she was met with was dismissal and irritation. 

"When the partner that I helped kill her way through the Valley comes back, let me know." 

Grace flinched, the reminder of what she had done feeling almost like a slap in the face. Armstrong hadn't seen it, thankfully, having turned around and kept walking towards the next outpost. She looked down at her radio and wished she could call Joseph, but even if she didn't have company she shouldn't. She could handle her regret on her own right now, she just had to stay focused and put one foot in front of the other. 

Sunrise Farm was a cozy little plot of land, she could imagine the droves of people coming here to do their autumn pumpkin picking. It reminded her of Rae Rae's, making her miss Boomer. They walked up the dirt path to a produce stand, Armstrong keeping her eye out with her scope with Grace did the talking again. The stand was selling a variety of vegetables that had been grown on the farm and, of course, pumpkins. If she had the time or the resources to cook a homemade meal she would have bought something, but for now she would stick to non perishables. She wandered past the vendor to the empty tables in the cafe area behind it. For a minute she stared at a line of candy dispensers, wondering what in the world a 'Pickle Ring' was and how anything pickle flavored could be a candy.

The two walked further up the dirt drive to the farm itself. On the left was a Resistance shop and a trailer where a few members sat and talked casually. There were countless crates filled with pumpkins scattered around - she was surprised there were any pumpkins left to be picked. There were a few stacks of fertilizer and a red barn filled with empty cages with hay in them. The outpost had been given a secure once over, but Armstrong sighed and went to wait down by the produce vendor when Grace agreed to help find misplaced parts for their irrigation system.

There were only three scattered pieces around the disarray of the farm, she found and attached them to the sprinkler system in the pumpkin fields. When water was triumphantly spraying over the crops once more the day was waning. Walking through the back of the barn and heading towards the front, she slowed and stopped at the sight of a white sheet of paper. It blended in so well atop the white crate it was on that she had almost missed it. She recognized the Eden's Gate cross at the top center of the page and picked it up to give the note a once over. It read: 

_Agenda this week: Hurry the harvest. John needs to run a convoy soon so we'd better have those baskets ready. Remember, our survival depends on having all this food safe in John's Gate before the Collapse._

The Collapse. The end of the world as everyone knew it. At some point, maybe the very moment she had seen a vision of it in the bliss, a part of her started believing that a reckoning was coming. Whether it would be soon or a couple of years from now, who knew. Grace set the paper down and rejoined Armstrong down by the produce stand, buying an apple and biting into it, enjoying the crisp, sweet taste of it as they took out a map and checked off their first two destinations. She ran her hand over the scabby cuts on her upper arm and fought the urge to scratch at them as she glossed over the territory. So far there had been minimal movement to the east of Fall's End, so if they were pushing back they would probably make a move closer to the north region of the Valley. 

The map in front of her got pulled away and folded neatly into Armstrong's bag. She frowned and looked over at the sniper, not able to get a read on her expression. 

"What's up?" 

"I think I'm done for today. Can we hit the rest tomorrow? Don't have too many daylight hours left anyways." 

Grace could only nod, helpless in the face of whatever her friend wasn't sharing with her. They said their goodbyes and Armstrong headed out, leaving her with a free rest of the day. She didn't want to do the other checks alone, if John was going to push back then she didn't want to be caught by herself if she couldn't resolve any run ins without complete willingness to kill. But she should be free to wander where she may, at least. The peggies wouldn't be after her anymore, like Joseph had said. There was no contemplation anymore about whether or not to trust him, it came naturally now. 

She could go back to Fall's End, back to the Spread Eagle where she already knew she would feel like she was a horrible person as everyone talked about kicking the shit out of Eden's Gate. 

She could head to the Rye's again, but they were already taking care of Hudson, and with the baby on the way...they probably wanted space in their home. 

As she took up a seat on a bale of hay and ate her apple, she decided to take out her own map and peruse it. There were a few places that met the criteria she was looking for, but they were too close to Resistance populated areas. By the time she had thrown away the core of her apple she had drawn a little smiley face next to her destination. It was time to carve out a little piece of her own from the Valley for once, like she had in the Henbane. 

After today she wanted to talk to someone who didn't have a growing ball of anger and mistrust towards her. Grace found herself unconsciously thumbing the plastic of her radio as the day had gone on, wanting to hear Joseph's voice. There had been a time after they first met at the cabin where they talked everyday, and now whenever she was left feeling low after a long day she found she wanted to tell him about it. 

So she needed a new private place to stay, and was pretty confident that she had found a winner. Grace made sure she had everything with her as she psyched herself up and headed south west. Hopefully she could secure it and fix it up a bit before night fell. Joseph had wanted to see her, after all, and she wanted to see him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty so do you guys want smut or no smut next chapter? I'm leaning towards yes. Lemme know your opinions :)


	22. Exposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was nearly a unanimous decision for smut! Enjoy!

Adam's Ranch is a decent sized plot of land located just south of Hyde's place. Grace had stopped by Hyde's trailer first, but didn't see any sign that he had been around. No recent footsteps, cold grill and no van. The cook must be staying at the Spread Eagle like she'd had a tendency to, staying there longer and longer ever since Fall's End had been liberated. It wasn't unusual to see him and Casey shootin' the shit out back of the bar. She gave his grill a light kick and peeped in through the bent blinds of his trailer, satisfied that no one was home before walking away. If anyone touched his grill and he was home, they would know in a painful way. 

She walked back across the road and south down to her new home base of sorts, like McCoy's Cabin had been. Except she wouldn't be using this house as a place to escape, just somewhere she would be able to stay without feeling like she was freeloading off her allies. The fact that it was far south on the map and in a low traffic area may have had just a _teensy_ bit to do with it, too. A few months back during her early days in the Valley she had come across this abandoned house. It had stuck out to her, remembering it because even though the owners were gone and cult had packed most of it up, no one had ever come for the belongings packed up out front. There was no sign of a struggle, no peggie bodies or bodies of the residents. So why were the crates never taken to John's Gate? 

Coming up the dirt road through the forest, Grace saw those very same Eden's Gate crates she had noted last time. They were still undisturbed and scattered on the front lawn along with some random furniture. The two story ranch house was a respectable size, the peeling sea foam green paint told of its age and resilience. She did a walk through of the perimeter, discovering an empty stable and barn further back on the property, as well as a tool shed. When she was satisfied that the area was clear she headed for the front door, intent on claiming the place. Luckily only the second floor windows look to be boarded up, so she picked the front lock quickly and did a victory wiggle as the door opened effortlessly.

Stepping inside, Grace was grateful the home was not a mess like the cabin in the Henbane had been. It had bare bones furniture and not much else, just like outside there had been no sign of a struggle. If there hadn't been a struggle… Then had the owners been with the cult? Her heart sank. What if she had killed them at some point and they had never gotten to go back for their things? She'd never know. The thought kept her still and crestfallen for a few minutes as the empty house waited on her. After awhile she took a deep breath and gave her cheeks a crisp slap as she willed the negative thoughts away, turning her attention towards making the place more homey. It was effortless for her to dust the first floor and rearrange some of the furniture around. The only thing that took her some finagling was fixing up the barricaded stairs into an even neater looking barricade and draping a large sheet over that section of wall so that the stairs were hidden from view. She was just one person, she only needed the first floor anyways. 

After making sure that each room was clean she wandered into the bedroom with her pack. There weren't any sheets on it but there was a the queen sized bed, a small closet, a long wooden dresser, and soft white curtains framing the windows - one near the bed and one the adjacent wall. Bare bones, but again, Grace didn't need much. She opened her pack up and began fishing out personal items, laying them atop the smooth surface of the dresser. Her police badge, a Hope County Cougars pin, a folded up map of the county and her binoculars. What few changes of clothes she kept on her were put into the dresser or hung in the closet. Grace left her weapons in the bag and stashed said bag on the floor in the closet.

Noting the sun's position in the sky, she spent the rest of the available daylight hours outside. Making use of a crowbar from the tool shed, she pried the wooden crates on the lawn open. Stretching up onto her tiptoes to see what she could use inside, she was happy to find that they contained all the useful stuff that had been taken from the house. She retrieved bed sheets, towels, and a few t-shirts that weren't the worst smelling. In times like these she could just wash them in the river and take what she could get. She dragged in two kitchen chairs to the kitchen table, along with a heavy area rug she unrolled and placed in the entryway. It looked old, like something her grandmother would have liked. It was light blue with little pink flowers, small birds flew about on swirly sewn winds. 

There were no lamps, only lanterns, along with some couch pillows and a pair of shoes that she had no intention of touching ever. At least by the time Grace had finished, the long couch in the living room had its soft pillows back, her bed had sheets and pillows, and enough small odds and ends to make the place seem less lonely. She had her only two lanterns lit, placing one in the bedroom and the other on an end table in the hall. The last thing she wanted was to trip on her face at night when trying to feel her way to the bathroom. 

At the end of it all she stood proudly in the living room watching the sunset through the windows. Quickly she looked around as if just realizing she felt exposed without closing the curtains, wondering how paranoid it would make her seem if she closed them all like some hermit. Eventually the paranoia won out and she made sure to block view into her new space, curtains drawn together in every window. 

Grace was pondering what she would have to bribe Adelaide with to get her to airlift the rocking chair from McCoy Cabin all the way over here. She was brought out of her thoughts when her radio came to life at her hip, the first sudden sound in awhile making her jump. Though she visibly relaxed at the sound of Joseph's voice greeting her, hand reflexively grabbing it from her hip to answer. 

"Grace." 

"Joseph."

"Another day is ending. I trust you ran into no trouble?" 

"No trouble, or bloodshed. I actually settled in a new place here in the Valley. Like with the cabin." 

"You are not staying with your friends?" 

"I was. It just felt...strange always crashing at other peoples homes. Figured it was time to scope a place of my own out." 

"I see. And where might I find this place you have cleared for yourself?"

"Adam's Ranch. North of Orville Creek." 

"I know it. I will come to you tonight." 

She felt a thrum of excitement race through her. "Sounds good. I'll see you later." 

"Goodbye my Grace." 

For awhile she leaned back against the wall, clutching her radio in both her hands as she daydreamed. When she was finally able to snap out of it she grabbed a towel and chunk of soap before running into the bathroom, intent on getting every bit of dirt and sweat that she'd accumulated throughout the day off of her before he got there.

When she stepped out of the shower a half hour later she wiped the fog off of the mirror and dried herself off. Grace followed the light of her lanterns after hanging the towel on a hook in the bathroom. She had no fancy underwear, not that she thought Joseph was one for those things with all that 'cast aside material possessions' mindset, so she slid on a plain white pair and a dark purple t-shirt she had found that was a bit too large on her. A few sizes bigger than what she was used to, but reached the tops of her thighs and made up for the fact she had no pajama bottoms. 

She rested on the bed for awhile, contemplating the plethora of issues life had dumped on her plate since taking this new job. When the sound of tires reached her ears she stood up cautiously, waiting till they drew closer and saw the shine of headlights that eventually followed. Grace crept forward and pulled back the curtains from the window across from the bed, angling her head as best she could until she got a glimpse of an Eden's Gate symbol on a white car. That was all the confirmation she needed before grabbing a lantern and heading for the front door. There was the soft rap of knuckles against the wooden door and an instant later she had it unlocked and swung open. 

In what seemed to be their norm, they stood still and drank in the sight of one another. It was astounding how with a mere look, they could convey how infinitely grateful they were to have an opportunity to see each other, despite everything pulling them in opposite directions. She wordlessly stepped to the side and gestured for him to come in.

He entered into the darkening living room and took in what he could from the lantern light. Closing the door, all Grace could think in that moment was how similar this was to the first night he'd stumbled upon her in the cabin. Same orange lantern light, same eyes searching the darkness with curiosity. She had been waiting all day to see him, but now that he was here she was unsure of where to start. 

But she felt him as he walked the room, acutely aware of each movement he made as if connected by tenuous bonds, impossible to not feel him. 

"You are good at finding quiet refuge." 

"Any port in a storm." Grace offered softly, thoughts drifting to a certain sniper that she'd angered somehow. She led him down the hall and set the lantern on the floor there, letting the light spilling from the bedroom lead them the rest of the way. He closed the door behind him and went to the bed, running his fingers up the cotton sheets, over the wooden end table and peering out the window through the parted curtains. He took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand. 

Grace stood by the dresser and leaned back against it, arms braced on either side of her. 

"I was keeping an eye out around the Valley today. Came across two pegg--" She broke off, considering as he turned towards her, before clearing her throat and backtracking. "Came across two of your flock. Just a whack on the head so there would be no commotion. No blood. No death." 

As she spoke he came closer, rubbing at the beads of his rosary as he listened, his shirtless chest bared in the lantern light. It made all of his scars seem softer. 

"It felt… It was such a _relief_ , Joseph." Grace ended in a whisper, eyes fluttering shut as she relished the fact that she had ended no one's life today. She heard him stop in front of her, felt the heat radiating from his skin to hers at his proximity. She couldn't have kept from opening her eyes if she'd wanted to, looking up eagerly to meet his gaze. 

"I told John to return the Rye's supplies. But it is not too late for them to-" 

She cut him off with soft kiss, heart bursting at the thought that she had been able to influence even that one thing. Anytime he went to pull away to say something else she just kissed him again. A few kisses in he realized that surrendering to her affections was the only option, relenting and wrapping his arms around her waist. Grace could feel the huff of his quiet chuckle against her lips as he shook his head - which was comparable to an actual laugh by his standards. The warmth of his hands on her hips made her sigh and break away, resting her forehead against his cheek. 

"Thank you." 

"I am not an unreasonable man." He murmured, hands leaving her hips to trail along the hem of her shirt. She lifted a brow, not even going to bring up how _not_ reasonable he could be compared to normal people, more intrigued at why he wanted her shirt off while looking more concerned than heated. 

"Let me look over your sins." Oh. Right. The soreness had mostly faded into the back of her mind. Things happened so fast in Hope County, it had seemed longer than two days had passed since she left the bunker. She reached down and grasped her shirt, lifting it over her head and tossing it off into the corner. Bare before him in just her underwear, she didn't shift as nervously under his attention like she would have before. Grace stood comfortably, wanting him to see every inch of her. He made her feel worthy of so much: love, honesty, trust and redemption. All things he had shown her when she had given him no indication that she would return it. 

His fingers went to work gently feeling out her tattoos, most of which had begun peeling except for ' _Wrath_ ' - which had been done over twice and still needed another day or so. Satisfied with John's work and lack of any infection, he turned his attention to the inside of her upper arm where the twice carved ' _Sloth_ ' was placed. She watched him raptly, taking in his eyes as they scoured over her skin and darted between wounds. So _serious_. Grace watched his hands, holding and brushing over her gently as he made sure everything was healing alright. 

Finally he knelt down on his knees before her, unbothered by the ostensibly subservient action. He stared at his mark, the ' _Lust_ ' he had cut into her himself. His jaw ticked with strained self control as he placed his hands on either side of the word. He closed his beautiful blue eyes and pressed his forehead lightly against the healing letters. Grace reached forward and stroked his head, letting him find whatever solace he needed that she had atoned and stood before him none the worse for wear. It didn't take long before he pulled back just a bit, eyes opening and looking up at her. 

"Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it from me." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as he kept his gaze on her and leaned back in - pressing a tender kiss to the _'L'_. Now that he was reassured of her wellness his eyes took on a familiar hunger. Her own desire answered his look, her cunt clenching at the sight of him kissing her on his knees. 

"But he said to me 'My Grace is sufficient for you," He proceeded, his impassioned voice a mirror of the lust in his own eyes as he kissed the ' _U_ '. His hands came up and grasped her hips, keeping her still as a shiver ran down her spine. His soft lips were so warm against her, his breath tickled at her skin. She wanted so desperately to cant her hips forward, to plead for him to hurry up. If Joseph could read the look she was giving him, he made no move to heed it and switched to the ' _S'_ leisurely. 

In the next moment Grace gasped, hips jerking in his hold as he sucked some of the letter into his mouth. She had been expecting him to simply kiss it like he had before, but he'd taken her off guard. Possibly a sensual reprimand for her impatience, or just a carnal need to taste her skin. He nipped at it lightly before his tongue soothed it over. It stung and felt _good_ at the same time, sending a jolt of warmth right to the core he was so close to. Her mouth fell open as she watched, unable to fathom what she found in the depths of his blue eyes as he kissed lovingly over his bite. There was a small smudge of blood on his lips, _her_ blood. 

Ah. So this was the same lust from that day in the bunker. The same name but a different beast from the one she'd first made love to. 

"-for my power is made perfect in weakness'." Joseph finished, placing placating kisses over the _'T'_. The hand she had on his head tugged off the band keeping his hair up, it fell down around his face. Grace let it drop to the floor before running her fingers through his hair, nails dragging pleasantly over his scalp and making him shiver against her. Without warning he nosed at her sex, still hidden from him beneath her panties, and dragged his tongue through her clothed lips. A soft moan escaped her as her eyes closed and she curled forward, now threading his hair through the fingers of both her hands as she held onto his head. 

"Joseph…" She whispered, opening her eyes to find him hooking his fingers into the band of her panties and dragging them down. Grace lifted one foot at a time for him to completely remove them before they were flung to the side carelessly. As his hands made their way back up they caressed her calves and thighs before holding back onto her hips. With zeal he wasted no time repeating his previous motion, sliding his tongue between her folds and finally tasting her without barrier. Her hands gripped his head, keeping him against her as he delved into her sex with his tongue. He teased at her entrance and pressed more firmly as he ran it in semi circles around her clit. 

Grace was panting, chest heaving as she threw her head back and closed her eyes. Joseph watched her even now, his own eyes half lidded in the pleasure he received from getting to feast upon her. She tugged his hair at one point, urging him to return to a sweet spot he had touched upon, only to earn a groan from the man beneath her. Whenever he would lavish her clit with attention she would tug on his hair again as a reward, making his hands grip her hips harder, his hips twitch forward and give her pleasant vibrations as she made him moan his thirst for her even as he drank from her. 

Grace whimpered, chasing the delicious heat he built up inside of her, always giving her more than she felt she deserved. Her hips bucked against his face even as his bruising grip kept her hips from moving too far. She rode him, letting him hear the soft moans he coaxed from her. 

When she opened her eyes she wound up looking at the window, for a moment seeing a moving shape outside of it. She stopped her rocking with a gasp as her hands left his head and gripped his shoulders. He pulled back, sensing her sudden distress and licking his lips of her arousal.

"Grace? What it is?" He asked, voice gruff with the undertones of his desire. She pointed to the window and knelt alongside Joseph to hide her naked form behind the mattress, not knowing quite what had crossed the shadows outside the window. 

"Outside the window." She hissed, trying to catch the breath she had lost while working towards her climax, "I saw something move." 

Joseph frowned and stood, Grace realizing that he had never taken his pants off. If it turned out no one was there, she would correct that first thing. She was still throbbing between her legs, but made herself wait patiently as he went to the window and scanned the dark forest outside. He shook his head at her and procured his switchblade from his back pocket - heading back out down the hall and towards the front door. Grace looked around and found her t-shirt, refusing to be left alone, tugging it on quickly and following after him. They went quietly in the dark, he held an arm out in a silent command for her to stay behind him as he flipped the lock back on the door and swung it open. 

Grace held her breath, watching the muscles of Joseph's back move as he breathed, standing on the porch and looking over all that was visible in the moonlight. 

She remained tense behind him until he stepped back inside and re-locked the door. When he turned to look at her she shrugged and shook her head. 

"I-I swear I saw something. A shadow…" Grace trailed off, feeling silly for bringing everything to a halt over nothing. But she'd seen…

"There is nothing. Besides, what could the Deputy be afraid of?" He teased, no doubt to comfort her. She just scoffed and pointed at the now closed front door, trying to scrounge up any dignity this had taken from her. 

"Yeah, well you clearly haven't been throttled by a wolverine before. The wildlife around here is as vicious as it is fascinating." She turned, cheeks heated, to head back to the bedroom. 

"Like you?" 

Grace stopped cold - half turning to look back at him, her mouth open in a wide grin. Her eyes dancing with surprise. 

"Joseph Seed. _Flirting_? At a time like this?" Her mock disbelief made him smile, the look in their eyes becoming more mischievous by the second as they stood off against one another. Their previous appetite's returning now that they were assuredly alone again. Heartbeats passed as each silently dared the other, each one craving the other but holding their ground. 

Of course, having had her orgasm dangled so close to her, Grace was the first to break. Turning back around and breaking off into a sprint towards the kitchen, her heart thundered in excitement at the sound of Joseph's steps following close behind. She led him on a merry chase around the diameter of the kitchen and doubled back towards the living room. As she ran into the hallway she was unable to stop the nervous giggles that escaped her as his steps got closer. She made the mistake of looking back, catching sight of him closer behind her than she'd thought, making her squeal in surprise and try to launch into the bedroom. 

But it was too late, the look had cost her precious moments and Joseph was able to grab her by the waist and spin her around. He held her flush against him, kissing her deeply before she could yelp in surprise. Their teeth clacked with the intensity they couldn't calm anymore than they could slow their racing hearts. Their tongues danced, her hands tangling themselves in his hair again while his hands reached around and grabbed her rear. Groaning into her mouth, he kneaded the flesh of her ass, walking her carefully backwards and slowly into the bedroom. 

It was so easy to lose herself in him, her skin was on fire and she wanted nothing more than to be in bed with her lover. Grace pulled back for air and he began to pepper kisses down her neck. Her thoughts were a jumble, his hips bucking against hers as he held her up against him with his delicious grip on her backside. But she remembered the window, remembered who they were as separate people - before they were melding together in a language just for them. She pulled his head away and cupped his cheeks, making him look at her. God he was handsome, strong nose and wavy hair. Intense eyes and lips swollen from kissing. His beard tickled beneath her palms as she nuzzled the tip of her nose against his.

"Tell me everything will be fine." She pleaded, "That this could end with no one else getting hurt." Grace met his now forlorn gaze, knowing the answer before she had even spoken the words. Too many wheels already turning, too late to stop careening towards the end of the world. They both knew it was a fantasy to believe it could be different, she just wished she was as strong like Joseph was. But he had known for a long time that the Collapse was coming and that blood would be shed. By now he could push aside the distress and focus on the here and now, so she wasn't surprised by his answer. 

"There must be kindle to burn, corrupt ash to be swept away, before we rebuild together." He declared firmly, tone leaving no room for argument as he grasped her chin in his hand and ran the pad of this thumb across her lower lip. They parted slightly for him as he leaned in. "I cannot feed you pretty lies, Grace." 

Somehow it comforted her to hear the truth, as scary as it was. He gave her the strength to carry on even with troubled times on the horizon. 

Joseph walked her back some more until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. He laid her down reverently and whispered words of love to her, using his switchblade to cut easily through her t-shirt. She didn't care, it was just something else keeping him from her. Once the shirt and the blade were out of the way he left her splayed on the bed and stood up, hands going to his belt buckle.

"Touch yourself." A gruff plea, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he unbuckled his belt, watching as she pinched at one of her nipples with one hand and slid two fingers on her other between her sex. He divested himself of what little clothing he'd had on, hard cock springing free. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she took in the precum already beading at his tip. She worked herself over with her hand, rubbing around her clit just the way she liked before tracing her entrance. The mattress shifted down as Joseph returned to bed, running a strong hand over his length, eyes glued to the hand between her legs as she dipped a finger inside herself and mewled. All this foreplay, while amazing, left her needing to be filled. Joseph spread her legs, on his knees between them as his hips slotted perfectly against hers. 

Their hands were right next to each others, hers adding another finger inside and curling it towards that sensitive spot inside her, whining needily as she gave herself pleasure that barely held a candle to having him inside of her. He pumped his length over her, hips jerking into his hands as he got off on the sight of her. She was an angel displaying herself for him, wanting him. His control slowly slipped as he watched the sight of her fingers disappearing inside of her, coated in her wetness.

He could devour her every way. One day he would take her mouth, her perfect breasts, that round bottom. Every inch of her as God had gifted to him. A reward for his faith and diligence. An irreproachable match for him. 

Abruptly he took her fingers from her and brought them up, taking the digits into his mouth and tasting her once more on his tongue. Grace bucked her hips up and slid herself against the base of him, whispering his name in desperation. He released her hand and gripped himself, unable to keep himself from joining with her any longer. His tip traced around her entrance first, coating the bulbed head of his cock with a mix of his precum and her juices. Finally lining himself up, he slid home in one hard thrust - both of them moaning as they felt the perfection of their union. 

Grace felt him bottom out within her, stretching her so deliciously that she chanted his name like a prayer. She throbbed around him, her walls pushing him out and pulling him in at the same time. Every inch of her so completely filled that it made her fingers feel like a joke. He fit perfectly, every inch of him sheathing into her cunt seamlessly. Looking up at him, she took pride in the flush of his cheeks, his heaving chest and twitching member inside of her. It made her feel powerful, getting this man to need her so. And she needed him right back. 

"You are a _gift_." He told her, both hands coming to grip her thighs and keep them apart while he remained knelt between them. He began to rock into her slowly, low moans slipping from his lips as he pulled out inch by inch and slammed back home sharply. He was patient, he would keep this pace and draw her orgasm from her, feel her shatter around him. She was dragged towards him as he pulled back, the snug fit of him inside her making it impossible to do so without taking her with him a bit. When he slid back in and hit that sensitive spot inside of her she keened for him, getting pushed up the bed again as her thighs trembled in his grasp. 

He watched her with an awed focus, seeing her laid beneath him as if she were priceless vestige from God himself that he was intent on learning inside and out. Every angle he tried, every spot he hit, he made sure he knew exactly what it evoked from her - what sound, what expression, every tremble of her body. 

Joseph kept her spread nicely for him as he took his time learning her. Every clench of her walls signaled the precipice he was bringing her to. His gaze drifted down, head tilting just so as the joining of their bodies captivated him. The sight of the thick of his cock buried deep between the swollen pink lips of his Grace, surrounded and squeezed by her neglected depths. He pulled back, hard and glistening with the slick of her, admiring the sight of it before plunging back into her tight warmth. Even at this pace the wet sounds their joining made were obscene in the quiet night, punctuated only by their pants and moans. 

"Come...for...me." He commanded, each word punctuated by his slow thrusts. She writhed beneath him, used to having faster movement but finding a new pleasure in the heavy draw of his cock slowly from her. It was a new gratification she hadn't tried before, and at this pace she could feel every twitch and tense of him as she neared closer to completion. 

"Joseph, please, _yes_!" Grace begged, heat coiling in her belly unraveling, her orgasm rocking through her, intense in the face of their slow coupling. Her toes curled, walls fluttering and spasming around him. If it didn't feel so good, Grace might have had a sense to be embarrassed about the lewd noises he was drawing from her. Shattering around him, he hissed as he fought to hold on past the feeling of her milking him. He released her legs and leaned over her, arms on either side of her as he began thrusting into her faster, his patience at the end of its course. If there were any animals outside, they were probably driven off by the animalistic sounds the two lovers made. The sound of their skin slapping against each other filled the small room, their moans muffled as their lips met once more. 

Grace whimpered as he rocked her through her climax, still sensitive as he pistoned into her and sought his own release. She reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, murmuring encouragement as she felt him stiffen more inside of her. Her other hand splayed on his back, raking her nails up the scarred flesh there, making him arch into her with a final groan - hips stuttering as he bottomed out one last time and spent himself as deeply as he could within her. 

Joseph leaned his cheek into the palm of her hand, kissing it gently as he gave a few smaller thrusts, the last spurts of his seed joining with the rest. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his side. They lay spent, looking at each other like they would disappear any moment. 

Grace didn't care to get up and snuff out the lantern, she just wanted to lay in his arms. She snuggled closer and he tucked her head into the crook of his neck, nuzzling into her hair and breathing the smell of her. Their legs remained tangled, Joseph softening but remaining seated inside of her. 

"I love you." He declared, kissing her forehead, unafraid as in all things as he admitted his feelings. It was a bold thing to say when they hadn't really established what their relationship was. It seemed like more of an emotional connection than a logical one. She closed her eyes and kissed his neck in return - but couldn't bring herself to return the words to him. Grace just wasn't sure what it would mean to say it back. He would expect her to join Eden's Gate, and while she was slowly changing herself, she wasn't _that_ prepared. They had fundamental similarities and differences. He helped her save herself but still hurt others himself. 

She would rather say nothing and remain in limbo, enjoying the happy times wherever they came up. 

Joseph must not have expected a response, for he made no comment on her lack of one. His breathing slowed and evened out, falling asleep easily with his arms encircling her. She reached for the tousled blanket and pulled it up as much as she could around them with one arm. Pulling her head back to see him, she lightly tucked a few stray strands of hair back behind his ear. 

Grace watched him for a long time. Everything could end now, all she would have to do is go grab his switchblade from the floor. The whole war would be over. Her friends would be safe. The whole county would be free. Her eyes teared up as she took in his peaceful face, the scars and tattoos on his chest. The warmth of his body against her and the strength of his arms around her. His heart beat steadily beneath her hand.

She didn't go for a weapon. 

Grace wiped her tears on the pillow, praying that one day her friends would forgive her. Tucking her head back under his chin, she let herself be carried off to sleep by the chirping of crickets and soft breathing of the man holding her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are writers fuel, thank you guys for every one!


	23. Nirvana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, anyone?

_Grace was suffocating._

_Or at least it felt like she was. She found herself laying on hard, cold ground. Her hands quickly flying up to grab at her neck, feeling for any reason why she couldn't take in air properly. A hoarse, raspy sound came from her throat as she strained to pull air into her lungs, mouth gaping as she panicked. There was the beginning of a burning sensation in her lungs, a light tingle in her toes and fingers as her body cried for oxygen._

_Grace felt stuck in place, groping at her neck and moving up to check her mouth, only to meet with the feeling of hardwood. She froze amidst her struggles, hands shakily feeling along the smooth wood that covered her face. Her eyes flew open, peering out of small eyelets in what felt like a mask. There was a light shining overhead, not revealing anything in her periphery except complete darkness._

_She grabbed onto the sides of the wood and pulled, throat wheezing with the effort. It wouldn't budge, the mask was stuck to her face as if it were another layer of her skin. Fear gripped her heart, her legs kicking out feebly as a tear slid down her cheek. Would she be stuck here forever? Like a shock to her system, her body jerked - chest rising as she sharply inhaled air through her nose._

_Grace was enveloped by the scent of the mask. It's wood smelled like the Montana forest after rainfall, with after notes of apple. Greedily she filled her lungs with much needed air, opening her mouth to call out for help only to have the sound of a wounded throat hiss out. For awhile she tried again to remove the mask from her face, pulling as hard as she could before eventually letting her arms fall to her sides._

_Exhausted, she weeped in the dark. It would never come off._

_She could not even cry properly, her sorrowful moans sounding like someone was squeezing her throat tightly._

_Through the muffled sobs she heard a shuffle, hope filling her as she rolled her head to the side with some effort. Now she could see the concrete walls and floors, and though most of the room was still dark she could tell now that it was a bunker. The cold of it started seeping through her clothes, chilling her to her core. Just as she felt like she didn't want to be alone anymore, shadows fell across her upper body. Looking back up, Grace inhaled sharply at the silhouette's of her friends standing over her. She recognized their outlines as their forms blocked the light and cast them in inky darkness: Kim, Nick, Sharky, Armstrong. Her heart leapt with the joy of seeing them near, of being able to be rescued._

_Grace reached out towards them._

_Grace called to them, their names forming on her lips but coming out as strangled hisses. Hudson walked closer, coming into view as the shadows fell from her, revealed after she'd walked past the light. Grace's hand began shaking as it reached for her partner._

_For a long time Hudson simply stood over her staring._

_For a long time Grace kept stretching a hand out towards her._

_None of her friends were moving to help her. As she began to panic, tears falling freely again as she considered that maybe they wouldn't. Grace mustered all of the strength she could feel left in her upper body. She could do it. Her tried lifting her torso little by little, inch by inch. She grunted with effort as her back began to ache._

_With a final surge of energy she sat herself up - impaling herself on Hudson's knife._

_Hadn't she just seen her standing over her a moment ago? Yes, Hudson had been looking down at her blankly._

_Now, feeling the intrusion of metal sliding between her ribs, she gazed into the eyes of her friend, who was suddenly knelt in front of her. Hudson had a large bruise on the side of her head that hadn't been there before, either. Blood trickled down her temple as she sneered at Grace, bits of broken glass in her hair glinting in the light as she gripped the knife handle and pressed it in harder. Pain blossomed in her chest, she felt her heart struggle to keep beating, trying to ask why this was happening to her - but she had_ no _voice -_

Grace woke up with a shout, hands flying up to hold the ribs over her heart where the phantom knife had slid in. She had goosebumps all over, and could feel the still wet tears on her cheeks as she blinked up at Joseph. 

Joseph Seed, her lover. Not a bloody a friend plunging a knife in her chest. He was propped up on an elbow, hair falling forward as he hovered over her worriedly - his lips were moving, but she couldn't make out the words past the slowly abating ringing in her ears. 

Her face crumpled at the sight of him, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she cried out. He shushed her gently, gathering her close from the small distance they had traveled from one another in their sleep. His warm arms encircled her, securing her against his chest as he rocked her. She could still feel the cold of the bunker floor against her back, making her tremble from the imagined concrete as she bawled into his chest. He rubbed her back with one hand while the other stayed firmly around her waist, the warmth of his body seeping into her and chasing the cold away. 

He tucked her head once more under his chin, making sure she felt a secure support to surround her until she came back from whatever dark place had taken her from him. 

The minutes went by. 

When she finally felt that she had let the last of her anguish out, she began focusing on her breathing like Joseph's voice was telling her to. It was just a dream, it wasn't real. It made no logical sense and what was real right now were the arms around her and the calm voice in her ear. Her tears slowed to barely a trickle, her cries became hiccups, and the longer he held her the more her trembling came to a stop - no longer haunted by that cold bunker floor. Finally coming back to herself, finally feeling awake and in control, the first thing she noticed was a hushed melody. 

Joseph hummed softly to her, the hand that had stroked her back now running through her hair. She recognized the song. _'You Are My Sunshine'_. 

They lay that way for a long time, Grace clinging to him as tightly as he was to her. His humming calmed her heart, chasing any remnants of panic her nightmare had ensnared her with. She wiped at her eyes, brushing away the drying trail of tears on her face as well as she sniffed. Joseph pulled back a little to allow her room and to look down upon her. She hadn't had a nightmare in so long, what would it have been like if she had woken up and had to deal with it alone again? They always felt so real. 

He was there, studying her face like he wanted to find the answer written there. He didn't ask her anything, didn't try and coax an explanation out of her, just holding her and offering his presence to steady her. From the start he had always offered himself to her, she just hadn't seen it for what it was until now. 

When she was ready she reached a hand up to cup his cheek, a gesture that he returned.

Grace told him of her nightmares, starting from the first ones she had gotten since arriving here and ending with this night's fright. His thumb caressed her cheek as he listened intently to her stories, to every plague to her dreams that left her screaming. Waking up terrified and getting sick night after night. Of dying and killing and choking on rivers of blood - of masks and dark spaces she wanted to escape but felt she belonged. His lips were warm on her forehead after she finished, placing soft, chaste kisses on her face as if he could ward off any lingering demons still surrounding her. 

When he did speak he told her of his nightmares in return. Of the ones he loved dying in a myriad of different ways. Of the world burning, then turning the ashes cold as ice. Sometimes he'd wake in a cold sweat, swearing that he had been stuck to a sidewalk, slowly turning black with frostbite as he froze to death outside during a time when he had been homeless. Countless dreams about his abusive father. He had been having nightmares longer than her, definitely. Her life hadn't gotten hard until she came here a few months ago, but Joseph's whole life had been a battle. 

Once, while he and his brothers were just settling in Hope County, he had woken them up with his screams, remaining half asleep and unable to pull himself from a nightmare where their father had decided to sacrifice them before child care could take them away. He looked pained as he told her of how his brothers had to hold him down and slap him awake. Sometimes tears would silently fall from his eyes as he entrusted her with his own night terrors, letting her know she was not alone. She cried for him in turn, for all the pain and terror his life had been until he'd found his brothers. Of what brought them all to this place in their lives. 

When they had finished confiding in one another they lay pressed chest to chest, staring into the others eyes. She felt his heart beating up against her and focused on the sound of his quiet breathing, letting him become her sole focus as he did her. Grace felt emotionally and physically exhausted, limbs feeling like jelly as she admired his long eyelashes. 

"I love you." He whispered. Always making her marvel at how sure he was, how unafraid of his own feelings. His arm lay over the dip in her waist, thumb trailing lazy circles on her back. She didn't remember falling asleep, she dreamed of being exactly where she was - in his arms. 

\----- 

Grace awoke surrounded by warmth. The sun broke through the thin white curtains and signaled that they had definitely slept in. Shifting herself subtly, she cracked an eye open and saw the lithe forearm of Joseph draped across her. His chest was warm against her back, his slow and even exhalations brushing against her neck as he slept on. It had been awhile since she had spooned with anyone, and just what time they had fallen asleep and how late they had slept in? 

She was loathe to move, to possibly rouse him from sleep, so she listened to birds chirp and watched the tree branches shuffle in the breeze outside the window. So quiet one could imagine there was nothing beyond the bedroom. Occasionally she would wiggle her toes and stretch her arms a bit, testing the depth of his slumber subtly, but the Father would not be so easily woken. After awhile she decided that she was nice, but not so nice as to wait nearly an hour. So, she turned her head as much as she could to look back at him. 

He looked so relaxed, so young. Especially with his hair still down and framing his face. The memories of their long night coming back to her. He had known just what to do to comfort her, to bring her back from the brink. Maybe he did have all the answers, or at least a lot of experience with night terrors. She pushed her hips back against him, experimentally. Light at first, barely jostling him. His brow creased and he nuzzled into her neck. Worrying at her bottom lip, she ground herself a bit harder back against him, feeling the softness of his manhood begin to respond to the feeling of her rear brushing against it. 

He stirred, inhaling deeply and groaning as he awoke. 

"What is this…?" He murmured in her ear, voice deep from his sleep. He placed a warm kiss on the space below her ear. They hadn't been together long but they had already started memorizing each others favorite spots, knowing where to touch and tease. What made each other melting like putty. 

His palm lay flat against her stomach, slowly feeling at the expanse of skin there before moving lower at a leisurely pace. A finger slid through her lips without preamble, feeling the wetness there. She gasped and ground her hips back against him. 

"It seems a temptress has awoken me." 

\-----

They made love again, not even changing positions as he propped his torso up and took her from behind. She remained spooned on her side, head tilted towards him, watching each others expressions as they lazily came undone together. It was the most blissful morning sex she had had since...well, the last time they had sex after waking. 

Now they sat up in bed, blankets wrapped around them in strange bunches and stretches. They talked through the morning about what they liked for breakfast (Grace liked pancakes, Joseph liked eggs and toast.) and other random things. Who had made the watery mac and cheese? (Jacob.) They talked about the different crappy part time jobs they'd had, debated the value of virtue's learned via heroes like Spiderman versus idols like God, and around to what the best mixture of herbs was best for healing balms. She wanted to pick his brain about everything, and he wanted to learn of her. 

Was there really a time when she had struggled to make conversation with him? Everything came so naturally now. 

"Did you have a relationship? Before you came here?" He asked, caressing her bare knee poking out of the blanket. 

"How do you know I wasn't still seeing him when I moved?" 

"It is irrelevant. You were meant for me from the moment you stepped foot in that church." 

He held her gaze, not hint of smugness or possessiveness. It was just the truth for him. 

Grace sighed and reached out a hand towards his free one, spreading it open and tracing the lines of his palm. 

"I was seeing someone, actually. Jeph. Had those parents who thought they would like to be 'different' and spell their kids name strangely. You know, like 'Meaghan', but not M-e-g-a-n, no! M-e-a-g-h-a-n! Like that. So it wasn't J-e-f-f, it was J-e-p-h. Which should have tipped me off right away." 

"Tipped you off?" 

Grace placed her fingertips against his own, moving their fingers around absentmindedly. 

"Just turned out to be the kind of pretentious, self centered guy that would have parents that spelled his name weird." 

"You judge very easily." 

"I know. It's hard to ignore preconceived notions, though. I've been trying to be better about it." 

She found herself rambling more often than not, but he seemed intent on hearing about her life and beliefs - every page of her that made up the woman that sat before him. And like all conversations with Joseph, they eventually came to talk about Eden's Gate. 

"I told you, your methods of reaping…" 

"You may tell me I was wrong when the world is gone and we are underground."

"So dark. If people don't want to be saved then why not just let them burn? Just let God or whoever do his thing." 

"I was chosen to be a shepherd. I must love His children, even if they go astray. For they know not what they do. I do what I must, and if they cannot be purified then it is a mercy to kill them before His wrath strikes." 

They agreed to disagree on that. Then talking at length about the vision she had seen, matching up perfectly to the one Joseph had been shown many years ago. It was always the same when shown to him, and though he was not actually in the bliss with her, he had been the one to show it to her. It hadn't happened with anyone else in the project or his family. How could she have had the exact same end of the world vision as he had, unless there was something bigger at work here? It was times like this that she wished they could find out what was happening outside of the county. Hell, even the state. 

She told him about Grace Armstrong, the growing rift between them. About tending to Hudson, who reminded her of herself before she had atoned. He didn't ask her for information on the Resistance's plans or structure. He didn't seem to need or want anything pertaining to the threat that had overtaken most of the Valley and all of the Henbane. The only region that had not been touched upon was the Whitetails, Grace had never gone up there to start laying the foundation for the Resistance. For awhile he was quiet, looking contemplative before looking at their joined hands. 

"Come with me. You belong at my side."

"You know I'm not going to abandon my friends." 

"They treat you as an afterthought to their needs. A means to an end. You dream of them _killing_ you." 

Valid reasons, but all made sense when she took into account what exactly was happening to these people. She probably _was_ an afterthought, they had a county to take back. It was kind of disheartening to re-realize that despite her hard work she still might just be a weapon to be wielded. 

"I just… I can't do that to them." 

"Tell me what it would take." 

"The _violence_ , Joe!" 

"The Collapse draws near, I can _feel_ it. It would make my heart lighter if you were close by." 

"Joe, I…" 

"You wouldn't have to do anything you didn't want to. The only thing I would ask for is your baptism." 

Even now, when he claimed the Collapse was still coming at them, he spared some patience for her. They sat in silence after that, each one worrying over the other and collecting their thoughts. Of course it was a tempting offer, but it also felt like the easy route. She thought of Hudson recovering with the Rye's. Of her little goddaughter. There were others who needed her, and she didn't have it in her to discriminate against who received her help. 

Grace told him as much and they agreed to drop the subject, for now. 

Later in the afternoon, as they showered together, he would wrap his arms around her and fix her with a stern look as he warned her. 

"Be careful, my Grace. There are demons about. Some dressed as sheep, some hiding in the brush. You must stay alert." 

Their time together drew to a close, Joseph needing to get back to his compound. They dressed together and Grace felt a twinge of sadness, getting a creeping feeling this might be one of the last few good days they had. But that was just a feeling, a foreboding over the future, and she didn't want to give it too much credence. She walked him to the door and stepped out across the front lawn with him, basking in the feel of the warm sun. Joseph had put his hair back into a bun and returned his aviators to their rightful place over his eyes. It was time to head out and fulfill their respective roles. 

Joseph held the back of her head, bringing it forward for him to lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. She smiled up at him and gestured to the car, if he didn't leave now then she probably wouldn't let him. They said their goodbyes, promising to meet again soon. She watched as he drove down the dirt path and out of sight.

Grace didn't dawdle after she was left to her own devices. Retrieving her pack and leaving, she couldn't help but think it was time to talk to some of her friends. To even go visit Dutch and ask if he'd seen anything. It had been a few days since she had been there, but if she knew him then he wouldn't say anything until he'd seen her. 

Demons about. Huh. 

It was time for the Deputy to leave her little base and venture out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your support and comments! <3


	24. Lament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ara-Dove did some amazing fan art of Grace and Joseph in the chapter 'Crossroads'.   
> I am incredibly grateful and flattered. Here is a link if you're interested:  
> https://ara-dove.tumblr.com/post/182909899829

While she trekked back up the vast acreage of the county she took a page from Joseph's book and tried to be introspective. Tried to envision the bigger picture and what role she was playing within it. It was hard not to want to give up this fight and be with Joseph, to give it a chance even if she had never seen herself being with someone so deeply religious. Let alone someone who claimed to _hear_ the voice of _God_. 

But even if she did, the fighting wouldn't be over, not really. She would just be hiding away from it while it continued on without her. With every day that passed the vision she had seen in the bliss stayed clear - not fading or losing focus over time like most dreams or hallucinations. Every detail of it had been seared into her mind and she couldn't shake it for the life of her. So say Joseph _was_ right, and the world was going to end from a war or some holy hellfire. It meant that everyone was in danger. 

They were too busy fighting each other to prepare for it. Well, at least the Resistance was, anyways. 

The cult already had their large bunkers, had already been filling them up with supplies for years. Her friends, other Resistance members and civilians, thought they were too crazy to believe. And it was a shame that he had to take on the violent and crazed behaviors that made them feel that way, because she was starting to feel like a reckoning was coming. 

If people chose not to believe it, fine. One person couldn't be responsible for the choices of everyone. It just matters that everyone had been given a fair chance to hear the truth and decide for themselves whether to disregard it or prepare for it on their own. But that was not what Joseph had done, he'd taken everything and everyone. Slamming into them with torture and punishments, baptisms and confessions - wielding a powerful hand as his desperation grew and the Collapse drew nearer. He wanted to save the most people, even if it meant they were irreparably damaged in the process. Because if they were in his bunkers then at least they would have _time_ for redemption. At least they would _see_. 

Grace understood him. Understood that he wouldn't stop, that he would complete the mission he thought bestowed upon him by God. But now everyone else wouldn't see the warning as anything else but nonsense, and in this Joseph had failed. She was more worried about trying to explain to her friends that she thought the world actually was going to end. There was no way to warn them without seeming like just another fanatic, like she had been brainwashed. 

The sun bore down on her from it's high position in the sky, making Grace stick to the shade the trees offered. There had probably been no point in showering since she was just coated in sweat all over again. If she came across the river maybe she would dunk herself in it real fast, just to stay refreshed. She was intent on making it all the way up by the Gardenview Packing Facility, keeping an eye out for the usual mess like trader's being attacked by wildlife, or people being abducted. There was time to kill between now and her arrival time, which would probably be a few hours from now when the sun would start to set. 

Maybe she had been being stepping back too much. Just because she changed her whole method of dealing with the cult didn't mean that she had an excuse to laze around and not keep helping people out. 

Or maybe since her trip to the bliss and subsequent recovery, followed closely by a painful and draining confession, meant that she was pushing herself too hard like always. It was difficult to know, easier just to wake up in the morning and go if she felt physically able. 

This time spent walking, though, gave her the opportunity to reach out to her friends. Joseph had been the one to suggest it earlier, as they showered and she had seemed distracted. Somehow the simplest answer, just speaking to them, had seemed the most off putting to her. Taking hold of her radio, she took a breath before turning to the Rye's frequency first. 

\----- 

A few hours and a mostly comforted mind later, Grace neared Gardenview Packing Facility. Nick and Kim had sounded relieved that she kept in touch, making her regret not contacting them more when she was in the Henbane. Kim's due date was nearing and they urged her to stick around until her goddaughter was born. Not that Grace had any ideas about leaving the Valley anytime soon. Thankfully Mary May had talked to Nick about her needing some combat removal, and he reminded her that he was always willing to watch her back from the skies if she needed some cover fire. Hudson was doing better, well enough to be up and about the house helping Kim out. 

Next call was to Mary May, who told her that Fall's End was doing fine and she had started a new project at the bar with Pastor Jerome. She wouldn't give her too many details, but it had to do with some renovations to the bar. She let her have her secret, knowing eventually she would stop by and see it when whatever it was was complete. Mary May didn't sound suspicious of Grace, just sounding tired from whatever she had been working on. 

About halfway through her journey she stopped for a short break, chugging down a water bottle and taking her jacket off, wrapping it around her waist as she made her next call. 

The 8 Bit was quiet in the afternoon, Sharky picking up and regaling her with tales of his fiery exploits. Chatting and catching up was easy as ever, but when it came down to what she had called for it was difficult to try and word what she was feeling. Though by the end of the call Sharky had been giving her meditation tips and a binders worth of education about the benefits of different 'oregano' strains for PTSD. Like usual her worries had been for nothing, her friends understood the stress she had gone through and, as long as she didn't mention not seeing Eden's Gate as a real enemy anymore, were supportive of her needing a break from all the killing. That would have to be a topic she'd tackle...later. 

So what was this weary feeling she had, and what was with the dreams? 

It wasn't even sunset yet when she arrived at the facility. Gardenview was a large plot of land where apples were picked and packaged for distribution. There was a large red warehouse in the center where all of the packing machinery was housed and the roof was a garish bright green. The land around the outside of the facility was surrounded by crates that were filled to the brim with apples, some distribution trucks and a flimsy looking wooden fence surrounding the main property. 

There were also apples littered all over the ground outside and in. So if you weren't careful of where you were walking, there was a high likelihood that you would step on one and slip onto your ass. She knew from personal experience. Luckily no one besides Boomer had been around to witness it. 

As usual she waved upon approach and checked in with the Resistance trader, not really needing ammo for the single pistol she had on her. Instead she bought a baseball cap and fit it onto her head, at least getting some small relief from the unforgiving sun. 

"Look who it is." 

Grace turned and gave Armstrong a tired look before stepping away from the stand and walking past her. 

"Any sign of movement around here?" 

"No, not yet. I got here this morning, been keeping an eye on the defenses. No sign of peggies." 

It had been awhile since she had been here, having liberated this outpost after meeting Boomer at Rae Rae's across the street. Armstrong fell into step behind her as she walked into the warehouse and checked on things with everyone. Most didn't recognize the Deputy beneath the ball cap and removed jacket, making her realize that it would be easy to pretend to be someone else as long as she didn't wear what was on her wanted poster. 

"Mary May told me. About the bloodshed thing." Armstrong muttered, breaking the silence they had fallen into as they walked back outside again. Grace didn't falter in her steps at the new topic, making her way around the perimeter, sticking close to the walls of the warehouse. Maybe she should check the alarm and make sure it hadn't been tampered with. 

"Ah. Alright then." What response was she supposed to give to her? She wasn't exactly looking for the sniper's opinion about it. They reached the yellow alarm box and Grace checked out the wiring and panel inside. No evidence of tampering or disabling. Good. "Saves me having to say anything." 

"Did you think I wouldn't get it or something? You know I was in the military." Her voice was defensive, and Grace just sighed and closed the box door, continuing her rounds. 

"I thought you would tell me to buck up and kill some more peggies." She replied disdainfully. After explaining it so many times throughout the day she was getting irritable at the self preserving need to not outwardly humanize the cultists. 

"Yeah, you're right. But I would have understood, too." 

"Well we haven't exactly been like Cagney and Lacey lately." 

They were both silent now, finishing up the operations tour and about to head out towards the fencing when bullets began to whiz by, kicking up dirt from the ground as they missed their targets. 

At first Grace stood still, her mind taking an extra second to register the threat. Armstrong grabbed her by her collar and yanked her back into the warehouse, the outpost immediately springing to life and mobilizing, returning fire. It had been so long since she dealt with such sudden gunfire, members ran past them as they crouched behind the open bay doors. Armstrong unholstering her rifle and making sure she was good on ammo. Grace could only crouch behind the wall and listen to the zing of bullets in the distance and thuds of them hitting the warehouse, her mind lagging behind. 

Armstrong left her and ran out from behind the wall, sliding into cover behind some of the large apple crates where she began returning fire. 

What should she do? She had her 1911, but she didn't want to pull the trigger, let alone unholster it. It had been so quiet just a minute ago, was there not a lookout stationed on the roof that could have seen them coming? When the surprise at the situation faded she could feel the familiar sense of adrenaline and readiness coursing through her. This was nothing new for her at all, but a little time out of the field and here she was frozen like an idiot. 

Grace felt a bead of sweat slide down her temple, so she shucked the baseball cap off and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Peeking around the wall quickly, she waited for the attackers to stop firing and reload before making a break from the warehouse. It felt like a dance she had learned long ago and just now remembered, letting Armstrong cover her while she took out her bat and swung it at those who made it in close. At least the ones that made it to her got knocked out, anyone who didn't would be shot by the Resistance members. 

She couldn't rightly tell anyone here not to shoot and defend themselves, her choice was not theirs. It didn't mean she wasn't trying to reach the assailants first and knock them out, letting them fall to the ground and live to not be shot another day. As she ran around the yard she made sure every member had proper cover, keeping an eye on the Project followers that had caught them off guard. Grace tried studiously to ignore the cult bodies that she passed, trying to focus on the ones that were left alive thanks to her. 

It must not have been a very large group, because a few minutes later their numbers were dwindling already. Grace ran back to regroup with Armstrong. As she sprinted across the yard she looked into the field and locked eyes with the advancing forms of two young looking cultists just beyond the wood fencing. Her eyes locked with one of them, and she noticed the recognition flash in his eyes. He immediately lowered his assault gun. 

" _Shit_ , it's the Deputy!" He called out, turning and saying something to the shooter next to him. Pulling out his radio, she could guess he was informing anyone else who was still alive of the same thing. They would probably call for backup now that they knew she was-- 

"Pull back and regroup!" 

"Fall back, _now_!" 

The young man tapped his friends shoulder and word spread among them, stunning Grace by stopping their attack and turning to flee. So Joseph had really told them not to seek her out. This apparently included not putting her life in danger. She stopped running for cover and started towards Armstrong instead, calling out to nearby outpost members that could hear her. 

"They're pulling back, cease fire!" She commanded, turning in a circle as she walked and signaling to the other Resistance members that were further away. The gunshots came to a slow stop, and Grace put away her bat with a relieved sigh. 

Her relief was short lived, fading as she turned to look at their retreating figures. There was the unmistakable beam of a familiar green laser sight. Grace's head whipped to look at Armstrong, fear striking her heart as she opened her mouth to tell her to put her weapon down - but the only noise heard was that of the deafening boom as she discharged her weapon. It was always a startling sound, meant to frighten off other enemies with it's thundering shot. She quickly looked over at the two guys that had been running for the trees. One was still running, and the one that had seen her and called the retreat had been struck - laying face first on the ground. 

" _No_! What did I say?!" Grace yelled, shoving the sniper and running past her towards the wooden fence. Hopping over it, she didn't stop until she crashed to her knees before the dying man. His friend had only looked back once after his friend had dropped, smartly continuing to run for his life and disappearing into the treeline. She turned the shot boy over, grimacing at the amount of blood soaking into his shirt and the ground. A clean shot, just missing his heart but puncturing his lung. He only looked to be around 18 or 19, he probably had hardly any training with a weapon. He looked wide eyed up towards the sky, gasping to keep in air despite the large hole in his lung. She untied her jacket from her waist and used it to keep pressure on his wound, reaching an arm out to slide under his shoulders and hold up his torso to keep his head elevated. 

Grace turned her head back, adrenaline pulsing through her as the young man suffocated in her arms. 

"Someone help! Bring me a medkit!" She shouted, shuddering at the sound of his wet breaths. His lungs were probably filling up with blood or something, had there been a doctor stationed at this outpost? The deputy looked imploringly at the Resistance members, watching them come around from the other side of the facility to look at her questioningly. They stood behind the fence and looked at each other, voices too far for her to make out. Armstrong had shouldered her sniper, arms crossed as she looked at Grace. Why was no one helping? 

The young man trembled violently in her arms before seizing up stiffly, drawing Grace's attention back to him. His blood had seeped into her jacket and stained the shirt she was wearing. He looked at her with fearful eyes, scared, his hand coming up clumsily to grip tightly onto hers where she covered his wound. She didn't know what to say or how to help, could only hold onto him and look in his eyes as he struggled for a few last breaths. 

He let out one last exhalation before the light left his eyes and his chest stopped moving, body going slack in her arms. The seconds ticked by as she watched the reflection of the sky in his eyes, her jaw aching as she grit her teeth. Hadn't anyone here known this boy? Most of Eden's Gate had been normal members of the community before joining up. She heard the shifting of grass behind her and lowered the body to the ground, closing his eyes and sitting back on her heels. There was blood on the top of her hand where he had held on, it left the outline of his own hand on her. Grace had tried her best, but a young man had still died today. Along with a few others that had been taken down before the fall back was ordered. They hadn't known she was here, otherwise they probably wouldn't have attacked in the first place. Not even the members here had recognized her, all thanks to a hat and a change of clothing. Her fault.

"He was falling back. He wasn't attacking anymore." She said to Armstrong, not bothering to look back at her as the steps came to a halt behind her. 

"He's a peggie." 

"He barely knew how to use his weapon."

"Willing enough to try and use it on the people here." 

"He was just a _kid_!" Grace turned her head, finally glaring back at her. 

"This is _war_ , Rook. I know you haven't dealt with it before, but I have. And you need to let it go. He was the enemy, and I don't let my enemies live to fight another day." 

Hadn't she told her earlier that she would understand? Maybe they were always on a different page with each other. Hearing more guns going off, Grace looked past Armstrong at the members at the packing facility. There were single shots, spaced out every few seconds. She watched detachedly, already withdrawn into herself, as the Resistance members fell back into their clean up routine. 

It was a routine she used to participate in, used to teach to any new recruits that joined the fight. Her stomach clenched as she made herself look. They began to quickly and efficiently move the dead bodies, piling them onto a pickup for easy removal. It was also protocol to shoot any enemy that looked to still be breathing, just in case. 

Like the ones she had knocked out earlier. 

What had she expected? 

She was a failure. 

There was a fiery feeling burning her on the inside, while on the outside she could not muster up any strength to emote anything. It wasn't wrath, she would have recognized that right away. It consumed her as she looked back at her old partner. They stared at each other, the chasm between them yawning wider. Now that she was just in a sleeveless tee, her jacket discarded, her sins were exposed for Armstrong to see. She could feel her eyes roving over her, taking in the tattoo's and carving on her arm wholly for the first time. Grace didn't feel self conscious about them anymore, but they made her friend look at her strangely. 

She said nothing else, walking away and leaving her kneeling in the grass. The body next to her slowly grew colder, she searched his pockets but found nothing to identify him with. Were his parents still alive? Grace unfurled her jacket and lay it over his chest, knowing she wouldn't be able to stomach washing his blood out of it later. Her heart ached and she had to search out within her to identify the emotion was rolling through her. Regret? Sadness? Partly. But for overall it felt more like disappointment. Like having part of her hope die inside of her. 

Armstrong could handle helping the outpost collect itself once more. 

Grace stood up and walked away, unwilling to look back.


	25. Rebuke

This was the second time in her life that Grace found herself feeling useless. 

The only other time had been in a small bathroom, holding onto her sister's cold body. 

She took the first abandoned vehicle she came across, a beat up old ATV, and drove it down the Valley towards one of the tunnels leading out of the county. Word had it that they'd long been collapsed in on themselves since the Reaping, but it was at this point in her journey that she took the time to see it for herself. 

There were empty Eden's Gate trucks parked on either side of the entrance, road flares kept burning pointlessly even after the demolition had taken place. They provided convenient light now that the sun had set. The basic structure of the arched entrance had held its shape, but further in the piles of rubble made it clear that there would be no passage through. For awhile she sat on the road in front of it, legs crossed lazily as she leaned back on her arms and stared at the boulders of rock and cracked slabs of concrete that barred anyone's escape. 

Grace really hadn't thought that protecting people would be this hard. 

At first her focus was to protect what friends and family she had left after her grief had scrambled her brain, turning her into a self loathing wall of steel that became overbearingly defensive of everyone. When she went to the academy it was her goal to protect civilians and other victims of crime. Then she came to Hope County, getting thrown into all of this without any warning as to the severity of the situation - except on the very night of Joseph Seed's attempted arrest. From that night on it had been a whirlwind of survival, protect, survival, protect. 

Keep the Resistance safe, her new friends healthy and breathing to fight another day. The cult was the big bad wolf and she was the lumberjack come to sever it's head. It had all been crystal clear, simple and laid out right in front of her. Maybe it was still that simple, and she was just weak minded. But regretfully she didn't have the luxury of blind self deprecation anymore, her time in Montana turning her into the responsible and self conscious adult she _thought_ she had already been. 

Grace could make out the dark silhouettes of eagles flying high over the mountain range she craned her head back to see. There were no passing cars or people, they probably avoided these tunnels so they wouldn't have to look at another reminder that they'd been caged in. Black and white Eden's Gate banner's hung end to end from the top of the tunnel, fluttering mockingly in the night breeze. 

She didn't want to go back to the Resistance right now, she'd only look at their guns and imagine them pulling the trigger. Alternatively she wasn't sure if she wanted to go full on cultist, either. That would probably just be the same thing. Grace was getting damned tired of being caught in the middle of this shit show, of being the only individual _not_ trying to kill half the county. Something had to give, one side had to stop being as shitty as the other, because she was dangerously close to not caring anymore. And losing any attachment to this world wasn't a feeling she was looking forward to sinking back into. 

She didn't keep track of how long she sat there in silent consideration before getting up once more. Like she always did. 

\----- 

Dutch's Island is just beneath Joseph's, and Grace let herself dwell on how highly amusing it was that each man had their own island. 

Where exactly had Dutch stood with the cult before everything went down, anyway? Eden's Gate had been buying up property everywhere in the county, from the smallest bait and tackle shops to most businesses in Fall's End. So why would they leave Dutch alone with such a huge plot of land so close to their main compound? He hadn't been one of them, no. She could remember waking up in his bunker and him telling her that if he were smart he would turn her over. 

He had seemed content to keep to himself until she came along and he decided she could do all the work for him. Of course, like the good officer she was, Grace hadn't thought twice about it. Now she was second guessing everything, and she was tired of being told where to point and shoot. 

The metal frame of Joseph's statue came into view as she passed around Angel's Peak, taking the main road to Dutch's like she had with Joseph all those nights ago. She didn't feel too much regret over destroying it, it had been excessive even by a cult's standards. If anything the Father's image was better off for it, making him seem less self centered than the giant statue had let on. Grace let the thoughts of hubris and men on islands carry her thoughts until she found herself parking outside of Dutch's bunker. 

Closing the heavy metal door behind her she took the steps down and walked through the cold concrete halls. Apprehension and skittishness tingled in her bloodstream, memories of a certain nightmare coming back to her unwelcomed. She shook her hands as if that would help loosen the sudden irrational fear that came with being inside a bunker. Irrational, because she had been in over a dozen bunkers and never had an issue. Until these dreams began to plague her. 

Grace found him in his radio room, looking across all of the CCTV footage displaying on his many small televisions. He must have heard her enter, or at least seen her on the live feeds, but didn't turn towards her or physically acknowledge her. So she shuffled awkwardly in place for a few moments until deciding to speak first. 

"Dutch." 

"Rook." 

"Been awhile." 

No reply, but he did turn halfway to look at her, arms crossed over his chest. If there was going to be another drawn out silence she would gauge her own eyes out, so she kept talking. 

"I'm having a personal crisis, of sorts. I didn't know who else I should talk to about it." 

"A personal crisis. Kid, I never claimed to be a therapist." He sounded tired, looked exhausted as he slid a hand up under his glasses to rub his eyes. His response wasn't the kindest, but the two of them hadn't exactly been close. After liberating his island she never really made a point to contact him, but Dutch would sometimes contact her with warnings and tidbits of information from time to time. Though their lack of any sort of close relationship made him the ideal person to talk to. 

"I know. I just need your advice. I… I'm having some doubts."

He stared at her. 

"...Resistance doubts." 

"What are you talkin' about?" 

"I don't wanna go around shooting this place up anymore, I can't do it." 

He pulled out a chair and sat himself down with a grunt, "Yeah, I'd heard that." 

Okay, so word really had gotten around. Mary May had only told a handful of her friends, though. Did that mean that earlier all those Resistance members had watched her freak out and knew why? How far had word spread about the Deputy who couldn't pull the trigger? If that was a message that got out then she was _screwed_. 

"I've done a lot. I've built up this Resistance, I've saved a lot of people." Man, she felt like an employee trying to convince her boss she deserved a raise. "I got us major control and footholds in John and Faith's region." She digressed, knowing that her own mental exhaustion was seeping into her words as she spoke. 

Dutch leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him, letting them hang between his knees. His gaze was scrutinizing, but she made herself get to her point even if he wasn't making it easy for her. There was a floor fan in the corner whirring in the background, and she focused on the consistent sound of it to ground herself. 

"...I don't think I can do anymore. Give anymore. The Resistance should take it from here without me." 

Once again, like during her confession, her heart felt lighter. From the look on his face she could tell it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it was her truth. She was just looking for the most unbiased person she could. Joseph would persuade her to his side, friends like Hudson would think she was crazy for thinking about stepping back. But Dutch had been there from the beginning, friend or no, and was the most detached from everything. He stayed here in his bunker, getting updates from different members around the county as things happened without him. If anyone could give her their thoughts, it should be him. 

"And you think you've saved enough people, then? Hm? Met your quota?" He asked, a drip of sarcasm to his tone. Grace's train of thought came to a halt, the protector in her raising their hackles as guilt threatened to worm it's way to her heart. 

"I… No. Not like that." 

"So you get this whole thing going, give these people some real hope, but leave those in Jacob's region to fend for themselves?"

"I can't go there. I won't _make_ it, Dutch-" He stood up abruptly and walked over to the large map on his wall. Upon it there were still the familiar faces of the Seeds, along with thumbtacks and criss crossings of red string connecting different locations together. Joseph's photo and information was at the top, as were John and Jacob's respectively. Faith's had been crossed over with an 'X' in black marker. He gestured towards the top of the map, at the Whitetails, where there were little to no Resistance markers tacked on. 

"Because it sounds to me like you are giving up, kid. Like you are running to the finish line only to get sidetracked by some pretty butterflies. But it's not some medal that's at stake, it's people's lives." 

Grace gaped at him, hurt, as he lectured her. He had somehow managed to take all of her inner turmoil and ball it up into a matter of selfishness. Of _laziness_. She looked at the map and saw all of the Resistance markers that overwhelmed it in comparison to the cult markers in Jacob's region. She had done that, _her_ , not anyone else. Without her they wouldn't have made it this far. Or maybe that was just ugly pride rearing its head. She was having a hard time processing Dutch's interpretation of her words.

"So you come in here," he continued, stepping away from the map and gesturing at her, "and tell me you've saved a lot of people, that you've done so much that you don't need to contribute anymore." 

Grace clenched her fists at her sides, unwilling to let him see how much his response was affecting her. She anticipated some push back, maybe even a pep talk or words about taking some time out. But not animosity, or total underplaying of all the work she had done so far. Of all she had _sacrificed_ of herself. 

"Think what you want about me. If I don't stop there won't be a Deputy anymore. And honestly," she gritted, letting anger boil to the surface for an instant, "if the Resistance can't take things from here at this point, they never could. I will not be a one woman army for _anyone_ anymore." 

"Just Joseph Seed." 

Her anger stopped boiling, fading away in an instant and replaced by cool trepidation. She narrowed her eyes. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I keep an eye on all of these cameras, here. And don't get me wrong, I _do_ need sleep. But I check overnight footage every morning." 

Grace raised her head fractionally, refusing to back down from him. She had known that him seeing them was a possibility, and this was just a confirmation of that. 

"So imagine what a wake up call it was, seeing that shirtless maniac on my feed. With a woman that looks just like you." 

As much as she wanted to stand her ground against him, there really wasn't any sort of reasonable explanation she could come up with. Nothing would make sense. It was only worrying if he had told anyone, then it would be a huge problem for her. 

"What were you doing poking around the Ranger Station with the Father himself, Rook?" 

There was no winning response. It was about time she made her exit. 

"I don't know what I expected. But I came to tell you I'm done fighting, and I have. Have fun dealing with Jacob." She stated simply, with only minute traces of bitterness. Her heart was beating heavily as she turned on her heel and left his bunker, senses on alert for any indication that he would follow her or try to stop her. But she made it out quickly without interruption, concluding another confrontation that hadn't gone the way she thought it would. 

She swung a leg over the seat of the ATV and revved it to life, flicking on it's headlight and speeding back towards...well, anywhere else where she was away from Dutch's cameras. Passing by the Ranger Station she tried not to let her mind get distracted with thoughts of what had happened there that night. As wonderful as it had been. Lots of moments with Joseph were wonderful, with the exception of the night they met. She could have really done without the whole crashing helicopter thing. 

What would Dutch tell people? She should keep her radio tuned to the Resistance's frequency, but was pretty sure that he might use private channels to let key members know about her. As much as her taking herself out of the fight would affect her friends, it would have a greater impact on morale if people learned that the Deputy had stopped fighting with them. Even thinking those words had her second guessing herself, her hands gripping the handles of her vehicle tightly as she grappled with feelings of responsibility and shame versus the logical decision she'd come to.

And as if the night couldn't get any worse, there was a deep rumble from the motor of the ATV, and Grace slowed down as the handles vibrated. With a few curses that would have Joseph wagging his finger she pulled to the side and hopped off, just in time for smoke to start wafting up. It had been pretty beat up, and normally she would be grateful it had even gotten her this far - usually she was more of a glass half full type of person. Right now was not one of those moods. 

She kicked the tire and grumbled, not even entertaining the notion that she was going to crouch down and figure out what was wrong with it. Many things she was, but a mechanic was not one of them. Grace untied her pack from the back of it and slung it over her shoulder, definitely no stranger to huffing it to her destination. Not that she had one. In the far off distance she heard the faint sound of shots being fired, merely sparing a quick glance in the direction they came from before continuing on. There was nothing she could contribute to a fight right now, if Gardenview had been any revelation. 

Maybe she should start running, exercise off all the anxiety that her encounter with Dutch had left her with. Grace was about to pull out her map and look over her options when a rustling from the brush alongside the road caught her attention. Crap, she really didn't need anyone asking for her help, or any enemies prepared to shoot her on sight. She stopped walking and reached over her shoulder, gripping the base of her bat in case she needed to defend herself. 

A few seconds later, from the shade of the treeline emerged two of Joseph's flock. They were both in white cult wear, and both men from what she could see in the night. The shorter of the two was leaning against the other, sporting a painful looking limp. The taller one held him up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulder with one arm wrapped around his friends waist. They made their way slowly up the incline towards the road, paying all their attention towards walking forward without the wounded one tripping over. 

When she backed up a few steps the taller one finally took notice of her, straightening up and squinting at her in the darkness. Eventually his friend looked up, confused as to why they'd stopped, and caught sight of her as well. They stood across from each other wearily, eyeing each other up, each keenly aware that they were on opposing sides. There was no fight to be had here, but they probably didn't know that. She was just another Resistance member, or civilian. 

Before either party could make a move, the clouds passed from over the moon. The moonlight allowed her to see their faces, they looked to be in their mid to late twenties. They had weapons but hadn't reached for them yet, and didn't appear to be bleeding anywhere. Maybe the one had been injured in a scuffle or a fall, then. The new lighting also allowed for them to get a closer look at her, the sins scrawled across her skin and the familiar loose locks of her hair that plastered her wanted posters. 

With nothing but a slow nod in her direction, they began to take cautious steps past her. Grace moved back in the opposite direction, hand uneasily relinquishing it's grip on her bat. Well, that certainly settled things, and was another confirmation that she was on the no-kill list with Eden's Gate. They kept eyes on each other, each moving stiffly around the other until the pair disappeared across the street and into the foliage there. She stood in the road, suddenly feeling like she wanted to cry. Which was honestly getting to be an all too common thing. 

It wasn't a good feeling to be rebuked so decisively by someone who, while not exactly close, had been the catalyst for her building the Resistance. She hadn't realized she had wanted his approval until it was withheld from her. And now, to have this simple act of acknowledgement and compliance from people who were supposed to be her enemy...it made her realize her next destination. Maybe there was something to this whole 'divine providence' thing Joseph had mentioned, having her ride break down and running into some cult members. The clearing clouds had been a nice touch, too. At this point Grace was more than willing to take a hint. 

She just had to find a change of clothes first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This talk with Dutch was originally only supposed to take up the first part of the chapter, but then kind of took over the whole thing. Hope you enjoyed, thank you all for your feedback :)


	26. Respite Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a new job so I didn't have as much time to get this finished, but here it is! Enjoy, folks!

A new day found Grace on a small boat along the lakeside of Joseph's island. 

It was just a few hours past dawn, the dew still fresh on the grass as the sun graced the sky with its presence. Summer would be coming to an end soon, and the cool mornings were getting a bit chillier as Montana crawled into September. Grace shivered in the shade of the embankment, hopping out and pulling the boat onto the dirt and grass enough to moor it. She had gotten herself just past the dock south of the compound and would keep the getaway boat here just in case anything went downhill. It wouldn't, but she never went into any situation without having a way out planned in advance. 

There was tall metal fencing topped with barbed wire around the entirety of the large compound, with the rest of the island being more easily accessible if one was willing to face down the dense amount of cultists that lived here. As far as that went, the residents of Hope County were content to leave the island be and worry about their own properties. 

Grace had taken time to herself, still angered at Dutch's hypocrisy and suspicion of her, and left everyone the hell alone for a couple of days. With the exception of Joseph, who she would radio from time to time just to let him know she was alright - just off the grid. Otherwise she had no doubt that there would be a repeat of what happened at the jail, so she made a point to assure the mother hen that she was still kicking. The last few days were spent camping beneath the stars, hunting, and hiking around the more mountainous areas the north of Holland Valley. 

Every now and again her radio would come to life and she heard chatter about all the events going on without her. There had been a lot of push back from John that resulted in constant gun fights at different outposts. While the Valley was struggling against the Baptist, the Henbane was thriving in Faith's absence. Bliss levels were at an all time low and the region was completely claimed by the Resistance, but she could hazard a guess that they would be using their new foothold to gather forces to go after Jacob. That's what she would do, anyways. 

After her need for solitude had been sated and she had shaken off caring about the opinion of an old man who didn't care to hear her out, this is where she'd found herself. Encountering the cultists that night, walking past them without confrontation for the first time, made her think that she hadn't been giving Joseph's offer serious enough consideration. He had demonstrated his willingness to pull back on the violence, at least where she was concerned, on multiple occasions. And his flock would listen to him, which was more than what the Resistance had given her. Friends aside, they had decided that violence would be their solution and any compromise would be a mistake. 

That wasn't what Grace wanted, not what she would stand behind anymore. 

So now she kept one hand gripped onto the chain-link to keep steady as she followed the shore up towards the compound. She had procured some cult wear, because honestly the Project left bibles, clothing and flags stashed around the county like someone had put too many extra zeros on the order form. The outfit consisted of a white long sleeved shirt with the Eden's Gate cross on the front and white baggy pants, simple. Grace decided to forgo a hat this time, letting the main wavy length of her hair hang free and choosing to plait the front tresses that framed either side of her face and pull them back to join together behind her head. 

There was a break in the fencing close by Joseph's church, she would sneak in there and integrate herself with the people there. It wasn't so much of an undercover operation so much as it was her seeing for herself what day to day life was like for the people under the Father's supervision. A test run of sorts, because there was little doubt she would get noticed, and she wanted it to be clear she was there without intent to harm. 

Grace wasn't joining the cult. Just looking. Considering.

Reaching the stop in the fence she remained crouched down and out of sight, peering around at what was in front of her. There were some guards milling about, along with a smattering of people waking up bright and early to begin their day. No music or speech was being played from the loudspeakers like at most other cult outposts she had come across, letting the sound of soft voices and nature fill the air instead. This place didn't seem like just another outpost, anyways. This place was definitely more like a community. 

Grace kept low and moved forward, hopping a gate near the main church, which remained as imposing as it had that first night she'd came, and went towards a grouping of white houses. There were four, one labelled _'Invidia'_ closest to the church, and three others lined up past it with the names _'Acadia', 'Gula' and 'Luxuria'_. Each was not that big, looking small enough to just be one large room for each. Probably bunks of some sort. 

She stayed in cover from house to house, looking for an opportunity to slip among them unnoticed. How many people stayed here at this compound and how many actually got deployed around the county? There was a chance some of them wouldn't recognize her at all. Grace kept herself hidden around the houses for some time as the compound woke up. When more of Joseph's flock came out she listened to them greet one another and head towards their work assignments. 

When a cluster of them inadvertently made a small group she slipped from the side of the _'Luxuria'_ house and pretended to just be waking up herself. She smiled sleepily and gave a small wave to those she passed, getting morning well wishes back in return. No one seemed alarmed by her presence, so the hardest part was over. There would need to be a conversation about the large gap in security that the open fencing by the lake posed, but she would see Joseph later. 

Further out on the property, closer to the entrance of the compound, was what looked to be a training area and shooting range. She didn't want to get too close there, peering in and seeing people sitting on mattresses on the ground. It looked and smelled like a place she wanted to avoid. There was a sign near the gate that lead into that particular area, that read _'Superbia'_. Pride. The followers shuffling around inside were probably too proud, and looked to be learning a lesson in humility. Past that was a big wooden barn where crates were being packed for storage, which was where the group she'd blended into was heading. Grace kept an ear out for any snippet's of information she could as they walked, getting a feel for the individuals that stayed here. 

"He has seemed distracted of late…"

"...of course there is much on his mind…" 

"We can finish up that last shipment by lunch…"

"...do you think I will be missed at today's sermon?" 

Normal chatter, punctuated by yawns and prayers of thanks towards living to wake another morning. She gathered that morning mass hadn't happened yet, and it appeared she had the choice of whether or not to split with one half of the group and help them harvest crops, or go with the other half and help them sort and pack crates to be taken to the bunkers. She opted with the latter, mumbling a short 'see you at the sermon' like everyone else had before heading off towards the barn. 

Due to her smooth assimilation she was able to pass by armed guards with ease, if anyone so far had recognized who she was then they didn't show or voice it. There was a watchtower to the side of the barn, where a lone sniper kept an eye out over the road and forests past the fence. Eyeing the dangerous rifle, with it's distinct red laser sight, she was reminded of Armstrong. Coming to a halt she found herself and wondering if everyone here hated the infamous Deputy that had been threatening their plans, if Joseph had told them anything different about her once they had started seeing each other. She was certain that they would heed the Father, but hadn't given too much contemplation as to what would happen if she was recognized and killed before he could know she was there. 

Eventually someone nudged her and she snapped out of it, apologizing and continuing on. Her radio was clipped onto her waistband, hidden beneath the hem of her shirt, and she had a lone combat knife shoved into the side of her boots. If put into a hard situation, no one would believe she came in peace if she had been strapped to the nines. 

Everyone fell into work, Grace hanging back a bit to watch them and see what she was supposed to be doing. They all seemed to be carrying out neat sorted piles from the barn and placing them in designated crates outside. She strolled over to the barn itself and, when no one stopped her, stepped inside. Her facade slipping momentarily as her mouth fell open in surprise. There were long mess hall tables that stretched in aisles down the length of the whole barn. Atop them were long piles of...well, _everything_. Mountains of belongings. A stockpile of what had been taken during the Reaping of Hope County. 

Mostly clothes at a glance, but there were also toiletries, electronics, shoes, knickknacks, guns, equipment, you name it. The whole barn was a warehouse of supplies, every ransacked house or business that was left empty probably had its things taken here. This may very well be the hub of Reaping operations, though she had thought it would be something under Jacob's jurisdiction.

Aware of the many eyes that could take notice of the stunned worker standing in place, she walked down the aisles between tables and settled in place next to two other women who were folding clothes. 

"...by yesterday but he didn't seem happy."

"I'm sure the crops will be harvested in time." 

"...important, but we should keep our focus on canned foods." 

Grace began sifting through the pile of things in front of her absentmindedly, not really sure where to start. So opted to listen to snippets of conversation from the two women, both of whom were so absorbed in their talk that they hadn't looked her way yet. Just mundane chit chat about their work and complaints about the fading heat of the summer, but displeasure at the snow that would come with winter. After idly going through some items in her pile she cleared her throat and turned towards them, planting a sheepish look on her face that was actually half genuine. 

"Excuse me, I just got transferred here from, uh, John's Gate. Could you...maybe give me some pointers as to what I'm supposed to do?" 

They turned to look at her. One was a younger looking woman with short brown hair, and a the other a middle aged woman with black curls and eyeglasses. The older one spoke up in reply first after a curious glance in her direction.

"Oh- I heard some of John's people were being reassigned. When did you arrive?" Phew. Lucky.

"Just this morning." She stated, which was actually true. The younger woman appeared to be looking her over more closely, the scrutiny plain in her eyes. Before any awkward silence could fall between them she hastily added, "-- I'm happy I got here so early, I was afraid I'd miss this morning's sermon." 

The older woman chuckled and patted her on the shoulder, 

"No worries, kiddo, I'll show you the ropes before the bell rings. Names Mallory, and the sourpuss behind me is Cheryl." The young woman rolled her eyes and got back to work with a grunt. Grace ignored the slight sting that the familiar nickname caused, smiling back at her and holding her hand out for a handshake. She took it reluctantly, giving Grace's hand a friendly shake.

"Grace. Nice to meet you. And thank you." 

She spent the time before the sermon learning about the different focus Eden's Gate had on what was to be sent to the bunkers. Mallory was nice enough to find a scrap of paper from a looted notebook and made a list for her to hold onto until she had it memorized. 

_Food and water_  
_Weapons and ammunition_  
_Fuel_  
_First aid kits and medicines_  
_Cleaning chemicals_  
_Toiletries_  
_Clothing_

Seemed like reasonable enough things to be stockpiling for the end of the world. Or, temporary end of it. But she wasn't entirely sure if the weapons and ammo were for their time in the bunker. Most likely they were probably just to protect themselves and to help take what they needed _before_ the Collapse. All of the items on the list were simple to sort except for the last two. Clothing had to be separated by category (i.e, shirts, pants, dresses, undergarments, etc) and shoes had to be a left and right matching pair, then the laces would get tied together and they were sorted in size order. Toiletries weren't as complicated, but had to be divvied up into categories as well (i.e, razors, toilet paper, deodorant, tampons, soaps, etc). Things like medicines and chemicals were packaged separately to be unpacked and sorted by the doctors in the bunkers. 

She was surprised how efficient the process was, how meticulous the thought behind making sure everything could be found easily when needed was. A little smile graced her lips as she looked through the assortment in front of her for the partner that went with a shoe she had. She couldn't help but think of Joseph staying up late into the night, making sure he had a reasonable system in place. Everything had to be perfect until they would walk into the new Eden, even if that meant making sure soap could be found in the correct containers. 

After the sun had risen a little more, the three stopped working at the sound of a large bell ringing in the direction of the church. Everyone put down what they were working with and wiped off their hands, Grace followed their lead and let herself be led with Cheryl towards the Church of Eden's Gate. It seemed it was time to view Joseph in action. 

\----- 

The inside of the church was just as she remembered it, familiar as she walked past the two guards on either side of the open double doors. Breathing in the smell of wood, the scent of paper and listening to the sound of turning pages as his flock looked through the verses of his Word. The wooden benches stay lined up neatly on each side of the aisle, which was covered in a thin red carpet. The television screens that had been mounted up front were gone, replaced with tables that were covered in bibles and wax candles. 

There were two steps up front that led to a wooden podium, placed where Joseph's siblings had stood during their first encounter. Mallory took her by the arm when she paused for too long to take in the sight of this place again, there were people behind them that wanted entrance as well and she had been blocking the way. 

They found seats in the second row from the front, Grace ending up at the end of the row towards the inner aisle. Her eyes kept roaming around for any sight of him, her hand reaching down to turn off her radio before she grasped a Book of Joseph that was handed to her with thanks. There were low murmurs from everyone as they got seated and waited. While Grace kept an eye out she wondered how these people could be the same ones that had shot at her on sight. 

But. 

They could probably ask the same about her. 

Once, she had taken out two cultists with a bow and arrow before they could even seen her. They had just been sitting at a fire, probably ready to rest for the night. She hadn't thought twice. 

Grace was happy that was her past and not her present. 

Ultimately a hush fell over everyone, and Grace's head snapped forward again, her eyes immediately locking on to the shirtless preacher she had come to...greatly care for. His hair was up, his glasses were on, and he was making sure the rosary around his wrist was secure as he walked assuredly up to the podium. Her eyes strayed down to his reddened _'Lust'_. Did anyone wonder why it had appeared so fresh again? It used to be faded on his lower stomach, but now stood out more since he'd re-carved it. The book in her hand, the people sitting around her, all faded into the background of her mind as she watched him. 

His voice was serene and melodic, and his movements echoed his calm nature. Deliberate and purposeful. He came to a stop next to the podium, reaching a hand out to rest on its edge as he leaned lightly on it, standing with his back straight as he addressed them all. For a moment she was reminded of John leaning against his workbench, but with a strong stance instead of crossed legs. There was a sibling similarity that she wished she hadn't noticed.

"Good morning, my children. We awake to a new bless'd day." 

There was a chorus of 'good morning's in return, Grace's included. She had never gotten to hear him give a live sermon, unless she counted the video where he had gauged a man's eyes out. But she didn't count that. Sunlight shone in through the windows, emphasizing the coloring of his aviators. When he began he needed no bible, no material with which to read from. They were words she knew had been the core of his beliefs since he was a child. His voice thrummed within the walls of the church. 

"'I am the Alpha and Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.'" He quoted, raising his arms up as if he could see God himself past the metal bird cages that hung from the ceiling. He lowered them and looked around at his flock, never capable of turning down the intensity of his gaze that made even the most devout of followers shift in their seat. 

"You all have come here, you have all followed me as your Father because you know it to be true. And you know that Revelations has told of a reckoning. The nonbeliever's say we are crazy, that we are dangerous. All the while they cannot see that we are hurtling towards the _edge_ \- that the society they created is throwing humanity closer and closer to _oblivion_." His hands clasped together in front of him in prayer position, his rosary dangling with the movement, "But together, my children, we will stay true to our faith, our _convictions_. And they should find us dangerous. They shall find us formidable and unshakable in the face of their sin. For together we shall punish those who seek to corrupt us and lead us from the Path."

She couldn't look away, entranced not only by his words but by a piece of herself that didn't completely disagree with him. He nodded to himself, as his thoughts echoed the sentiment on his lips. 

"...Punish those who threaten the new Eden we will build together." 

He did not shy from eye contact, did not try and disguise his fervor as inhaled deeply and took off his glasses, letting them hang in his grasp as he lowered that arm. 

"'And God saw how corrupt the Earth had become, for all the people on Earth had corrupted their ways.' " He whispered.

Grace tried to relax back into the bench, but the atmosphere was charged. The people around her, even the kind older woman that had befriended her, were nodding their heads and murmuring their wholehearted agreement. Everyone here had a purpose, a belief they were willing to follow, and she envied them that. She stared at Joseph as he took in his flock, giving them all his attention as they gave him theirs. Her breath held as his gaze wandered closer, wondering to herself if it would take him a few looks to recognize her. All she could feel was the thundering of her heart and the anticipation of having his eyes upon her again for the first time in days. 

Joseph's looked at the people on the bench in front of hers before sweeping over her aisle. When he got to the end and his eyes fixated on her - they locked on as if magnetized into place.

Of course he would know her right away. She didn't even bother to put a hat or makeup on. Grace subconsciously moved a hand over her stomach, feeling butterflies flutter there. Of course he did. A disguise wouldn't matter and hadn't in the past. She could shave her head and he would know it was her instantly. Her cheeks warmed, lips parting slightly as she let his attention wash over her. 

He stayed still for a few moments longer before taking a step back and breaking their eye contact, addressing the room once more. His shoulders were straighter by a fraction, chin lifted just a bit higher. His posture and mannerisms had been memorized by her over the long period of time in which they had come to know each other. In which they had come to lo-- in which _he_ had come to love her, and she came to care about him immensely. Because that four letter word was too scary for her to think about right now. 

There weren't many tells that gave away how he was feeling, at least from a normal person's point of view. But she did, she noticed every one. Knew he was pleased she had come to him, to be here listening to his words. 

The last time she had been dressed as a Project member was the first time they had kissed. He had burned with emotion at the sight of seeing her in his flock's garb, had chased after her and pinned her to a tree as he ravaged her mouth. Her thoughts drifted to what he could be thinking and feeling now that she was physically here, sitting among the other members. She bit her lip at the memory, trying to keep focus on what he was saying now rather than fantasize about him in his own church. That she was able to push away the daydream was a testament to her strong willpower. 

"...then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away.' Go forth, the end will not wait for us now that the seals have opened. I am your Father, and you are my children. And together we shall march to Eden's Gate." 

The last sentence he spoke was accompanied by the entire church, some clapped and some sent Joseph their prayers. They all began to stand and shuffle away, some stopping to speak with the Father and others heading right back out to work. Grace told Mallory and Lydia that she would meet up with them again in the barn, staying put on the bench as she waited for the church to empty out. To be alone with him again.

Every now and again, though he was conversing with a few individuals who had come to him afterwards, his eyes would stray towards her. As if he couldn't decide if she was an apparition or if she was really there. 

_Stay. Right there. Where I can see you._

That's what she felt from him before he looked away, clasping the two follower's shoulders and beginning to lead them towards the doors of the church. 

No worries, Father. She wasn't going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your encouragement, your comments keep me going :)


	27. Respite Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't originally supposed to be this sexy. But that's just how it turned out.

Grace stayed seated as Joseph conferred with two of his flock at the doors. She found herself gripping her knees restlessly and reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear before remembering the fronts had been tied back. It was tempting to get up and take a closer look around now that the space had emptied out, making it easier to remember a certain dark night in this very place. Were there other rooms? What kind of notes would she find laying around? She had to consciously keep herself from being the snoop she was. 

She placed the copy of his book she'd been handed down on the bench beside her, turning her head to watch Joseph finally bid goodbye to the two men. She tilted her head, straining to listen as he leaned in and quietly ordered something into the ear of the guards stationed at the door, but she couldn't make out his words. The guards nodded and Joseph returned, walking back into the nave after closing the doors behind him firmly. 

His steps echoed as he drew nearer, almost matching the beat of her heart. Coming to her row, he moved past her and took a seat next to her on her left - moving her book over and taking its place. Their thighs brushed against each other and Grace looked him over, taking in everything from his belt buckle, his ' _Lust_ ', all of his other familiar tattoos and scars that rose and fell with every breath he took. He was tense, like he wasn't sure if she was real or not. Or maybe, Grace thought, it was from trying to rein in whatever he was feeling at seeing her willingly in his church. 

When she finally, slowly, met his gaze she tried to read his expression. What she saw there she couldn't put into words, a fire added to his usual intensity that almost made her want to run. Instead, refusing to cower in the face of his full attention, she opted to break the ice first. 

"Fancy seeing you here."

He raised a brow, mirth flashing his eyes and disappearing as quickly as it came. He set the glasses he'd taken off earlier down on the bench. Then, tentatively, he reached a hand out and grasped hers, giving her ample time to take her hand away if she wanted. But she didn't. His hand enclosed around hers and she held it back, squeezing gently in reassurance.  

"I have not seen you since--well. You refused to meet me the last few days. I thought maybe I had..." 

"...Thought I'd been scared off?" Grace offered, smiling wryly at the thought. After everything, if she hadn't been terror-stricken to the other side of the _country_ by now, then she never would be.  

"Changed your mind." He corrected.  

"...About us." She reasoned, not needing his nod of affirmation to know that was it. She never meant to cause him unease - so she shook her head, looking forward towards the podium and beginning to tell him about what had happened at the packing facility after they'd parted ways. It seemed every time he brought her up, something happened afterwards that brought her back down. About halfway through Joseph had taken his hand back, leaning his elbows on his knees and placing his hands together in prayer. His stayed like that, eyes closed until she finished. 

"He was so young, Joe. I just… I can still feel his hand on mine. He was so scared." She whispered, flexing said hand that the kid had held as his life faded from him. Another young body held in her arms. It felt too close to Maddie, too similar. Armstrong wouldn't have known, she only confided in John and Joseph during her confession. 

There was silence after that, and Grace didn't feel like breaking it this time. Her eyes slid over to look at him, she could tell the muscles in his throat were tensed, the tops of his ears red as he warred with reacting to some of the youth in his flock being killed. He took a moment to open his eyes and look over at her, and she could see the anger and sadness there. There was also resignation, the acceptance that blood would be shed for and against his cause. It broke her heart, made her want to erase any notion that things had to be this way from his mind.  

"Would you like to pray for them? For those taken too soon, and for those who will not change their ways?" 

Grace blinked, taken aback by the direct offer, but nodded her consent without much hesitation. Even if she wasn't sure what higher power was out there, it seemed like an easy thing she could do. If there was a God then hopefully he heard her. And if there wasn't then at least she would cover all the bases. They were already dead, and this was all she could do for them now. She must have looked unsure as to how to go about it because Joseph guided her, silently motioning for her to lean forward as he had with her hands together. He didn't cast judgement on her for not knowing how to pray, willing to patiently instruct her. 

"Does it have to be out loud?" 

"No, He will hear you regardless." 

Nodding, relieved, she mimicked his position and closed her eyes. Her forehead came forward to rest against her joined palms. 

It felt awkward at first, and Grace wasn't sure where to start or what to mentally say. So first she listened to the sound of life going on outside the church, of voices and birds, and focused on the feel of the wooden bench beneath her. Of Joseph's body next to hers. After she stopped thinking about it too much she found it easier to dredge up all the things bottled inside of her. She prayed for peace and calm in the county. For forgiveness for all she had done. For the members she could not save that day, and for the Resistance to reconsider their methods. For Armstrong and Hudson to let go of all the hate pent up inside of them. She even prayed for Joseph to see that he didn't need to force salvation, and see things would work themselves out without him needing to take it so far. 

Next to her Joseph whispered verse and prayer, asking for the souls of his flock to find their way into His grace, and for mercy upon the souls of the sinners who knew not what they did. Never having been religious, Grace was surprised at the reassurance she felt just by conveying her worries and wishes to a power that might not even exist. But it felt like asking for help, like seeking out an answer - even with no reply - made the burden on her shoulders seem lighter. 

Grace breathed deeply and opened her eyes, relaxing her shoulders and letting her hands fall forward as she leaned back up. Joseph had entwined his fingers together, resting his cheek on his hands as he studied her face, having finished just before her. She flushed a little and cleared her throat, flustered at being watched during her first prayer. 

"What...uh, what now?" 

Joseph blinked slowly and stood up, leaving the bench and holding out a hand to her. She took the offered hand and stood up, letting him lead her up the steps to the area in front of the podium. He stopped leading and let her hand go to reach over the podium and dip his fingers into a small bowl of water - holy water, she realized - before turning to face her. Mouthing something, he brought his pointer and middle fingers to her forehead, tracing a wet cross upon her skin. She stood still and let him do his thing, more interested in watching the devotion in his eyes, the seriousness with which he blessed her. When he finished his hands put gentle pressure onto her shoulders, and she cast him a dubious look before hesitantly sinking to her knees in front of him. She kept her back straight so that her eyesight was level with his Eden's Gate belt buckle. 

Something primal in her sparked at the approving look he cast down at her, his hand coming to rest atop her head. 

"Lord hear the prayers of the woman before you, and with your guidance…" Grace kept her head tilted up so that she could look at him as he...blessed her? Prayed for her? The warmth of his palm spread through her scalp as he let her watch, not instructing her to close her eyes or look back down. His demeanor conveyed a strong assurance in his faith and a pride in having her here with him. What a picture this must make, the Deputy on her knees in front of Joseph Seed without a hint of violence or hate in the room. 

She realized she'd lost herself in thought as he spoke, missing most of his words by the time he finished and her attention snapped back into the moment. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her position and his stance making the room feel hotter to her than it had a minute ago. They stared at each other for awhile before she wordlessly reached up, fingers ghosting over his clothed thighs as she leaned in and kissed his lower stomach. Her hands grasped onto his belt. 

The hand on her head tensed, keeping her from leaning in and kissing him again. His other reached out and grabbed her hands, stopping her from continuing. 

"This is a house of God." He intoned wearily, though his breathing increased minutely. Grace parted her lips and blinked up at him openly. She may have been deterred once, but she knew how to communicate with him now. 

"And you said God made me for you." She countered, matching his stare for a long time until his grip on her hand slackened. Fighting back an urge to grin at rendering him without a counter argument, she brushed his hand away and tried leaning in once more. Joseph did not bother to hold her head back again. 

"If I am displeasing God, then I will atone. But. Joseph…" Trailing off with a sigh of contentment, she brushed her lips against the reddened cuts and heard his breath hitch above her. Her tongue traced the letters as her fingers made short work of unbuckling his belt. She let the ends hang open and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down just enough that she could wrap her hand around his hardening cock and bring it out. 

"Grace…" He whispered, almost like a warning, but despite his tone he made no move to hinder her progress again. 

"Let me do this for you. Please." He always made sure to take care of her, with his mouth and fingers. With every inch of him. Now it was her turn, and her mouth was already watering. God, she'd missed him. 

Grace kept her eyes up to watch his expression, seeing his cheeks flush and his lips part as she stroked along his length. Her breath teased at his tip as she pumped, nearly brushing against her lips as he became fully erect under her ministrations. She leaned in slowly, allowing him time to pull away as he had for her earlier. When he didn't, she swiped her tongue across his tip, keeping an eye on him as a hiss escaped him - his cock twitching up in response. Encouraged by the reaction she began trailing open mouthed kisses from the base of his shaft and up before eagerly taking his bulbed head into her mouth. His fingers tightened in her hair, a beautiful moan falling from his lips as she enveloped him in the warm cavern of her mouth. 

Grace took him in inch by inch, running her tongue along the sensitive underside of his length and sucking gently until she had fit most of him in her mouth. His size made made her lips stretch over him, her hand wrapping around the base of him that she couldn't fit yet. She held him there, letting herself adjust to having him in her mouth and swallowing experimentally. He groaned and reflexively bucked his hips, causing his cock to brush the back of her throat. Her hands reached up and held onto his hips, holding them still and relaxing the muscles in her throat so she wouldn't gag. 

He was panting now, his hand petting her head in apology. She didn't need it, just wanting to bring him the very pleasure that made him lose control. Pulling back she began bobbing her head over him, his thick length dragging along her tongue as she slid him out and in once more. She started slow and worked up into a steady pace, tasting the salt of precum leaking from his tip and moaning around him - the hum of her throat making him gasp her name softly.

She could feel him holding back, the restraint to not buck into her mouth and hurt her. She was taking him with ease now, but there was still some length she could take in. If she could relax her mouth a bit more… Grace stopped bobbing and before he could question why she had paused, she let her shoulders relax and eyes flutter closed. Without warning she pressed forward, taking the last inch or two into her at a pace that wouldn't make her lock up. 

Grace got him past her gag reflex and felt a not-too-harsh burn as his cock pressed into her throat, stretching it a bit. It didn't last long, her throat adjusting quickly, and she was able to seat him fully within her. She opened her eyes again, blinking back tears that had welled up in her effort, needing to see his face. 

He looked utterly _broken_. Tears forming in his own eyes as he took her in, looking at her as if watching a flower bloom for the first time. Beautiful glossy green eyes looking up at him, soft pink lips stretched around the hard length of him - buried as deep as he could reach and surrounded by the heat and moisture of her mouth. Her mouth was tight around him, her tongue stroking at him while she got comfortable. 

"Beautiful…" He murmured, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. 

Flushing under his praise, she gave a few testing bobs of her head to get used to the feeling of him stretching and re-stretching her until she had no problem with burying the length of him as far as he could go. Her nose brushed his lower stomach, the feel of his smooth cock gliding along her tongue making her legs tremble as she grew wet. He swallowed thickly, still hesitant to unleash his lust for her like he so craved. Reading this, she took a hold of his hands and placed them deliberately on either side of her head. 

Grace let her eyes close and relinquished control to him, humming her approval around him as he took over. She squeezed her thighs together, an unmistakable ache growing persistent between her legs. He took over the motions, starting with patient thrusts until he was certain he wasn't hurting her, before fucking her mouth in earnest. Joseph drove into her, bringing her head forward to meet his hips, eyes unable to look away from the sight of his length disappearing into her mouth over and over. 

Grace breathed through her nose whenever he pulled back, keeping herself steady for him as he took pleasure from her mouth. His balls grew tight as he chased his release.

"Oh, _yes_. You are so good to me, my _Grace_ …" He said raggedly, fingers carding through her hair as he held onto her head. Saliva escaped the corners of her mouth as he claimed her this way, trailing down her chin and dripping onto her shirt. The wet sound echoed obscenely in the room, overtaken only by his moans and words of adoration. Grace reached down to her pants and unbuttoned them, delving a hand inside to rub at herself over the thin cloth of her panties. She was already so wet, taking pleasure from having him use her this way. Of being able to make the Father moan so prettily.

All she knew in this moment was _Joseph_. He overwhelmed her senses. Everytime she breathed in through her nose she was filled the scent of him. She tasted him on her tongue, heard nothing but his breaths and moans. Grace had never belonged so wholly to anyone.  

"You take...take me so _well_." He praised, punctuating every word with a thrust. One of her fingers pushed her panties to the side and the others teased at her folds, taking arousal from around her entrance and spreading it around her clit. Everytime she moaned around him he twitched against her tongue. She was already so close, filling herself with two of her fingers and pumping them inside of her. It was hard in this position for her to reach deep enough to curl her fingers into that sensitive spot within her, but she got close enough. 

His rhythm began to falter, becoming erratic as he came closer to completion. His cock throbbed in her mouth, her own fingers were soaked. Her cunt clenched as she used her thumb to rub at her nub, building herself higher and higher, reaching for her own release when--

Joseph pulled himself out of her mouth abruptly with a _pop_ , Grace swayed forward and immediately inhaled more air with the free space in her throat. Licking her lips, she barely had time to be confused before Joseph was grabbing her shoulders and standing her up. The room spun briefly as he turned her around and put a hand on the back of her neck, taking her hand away from her sex and bending her forward to brace herself against the podium. She held onto the sides of it, hips being pulled back as Joseph tugged her pants and underwear down to her ankles.

He nudged her legs apart, fingers seeking the slick that coated her lips and inner thighs. Satisfied she was wet enough, he lined himself up and entered her in one smooth thrust. Grace yelped, unable to hold back a loud keen as he buried himself to the hilt. She had been prepared to swallow every drop of him - had felt him come right to the edge of that precipice before he'd pulled away suddenly. Shit, had the guards heard her? Joseph didn't voice any concern over it, the hand at the back of her neck caressing the skin there as if to soothe over the sudden change in position. 

Of course. Now that she thought about it, Joseph never spilled his seed anywhere except inside of her. 

He wasted no time building up the motion like he had with her mouth, immediately pounding into her at a punishing pace. She gripped the podium more tightly, rocking forward with every piston of his hips. He sheathed inside of her perfectly, walls tight around him as her body welcomed him back in. Being joined with him like this felt like coming home. There was one hand on the back of her neck and the other holding onto her hip, both helping keep her steady. The orgasm she had been on the precipice of returned quickly, making her gasp and push her hips back to meet his own. 

Grace was coming apart beneath him as he hit at the deepest part of her, unable to hold back the release the stretch of his cock brought her to. Stars burst behind her eyelids as she came, moaning his name and clenching around him as he rode her through her climax. Her muscles spasmed around him, urging his own finish closer as her walls milked at him. He growled, the sound of it feral and raw as he bottomed out, keeping himself sheathed as deeply as he could while spending himself inside of her. His hand left her neck and came to rest on her shoulder, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her spine. They stay joined, needing a good few minutes to catch their breath. Every now and again Joseph would rock gently into her, making sure he'd released all the cum he had to offer before pulling out slowly.

When they could breathe properly again he straightened behind her, the sound of him adjusting and zipping up his jeans reaching her ears. Her limbs felt like jelly and her jaw was sore, but the apex of her thighs ached wonderfully. Joseph let her stay leaning against the podium, content to let the sweat on her skin cool as lay her head against the wood of it. She listened as he left the main room briefly and returned with water and a cloth. He kissed her shoulders and massaged the muscles of her back, murmuring apologies for being so rough, which she brushed off with a smile. 

Kneeling behind her he proceeded to clean her with the wet cloth he'd brought. He wiped the remnants of her arousal from her thighs and outer lips, but not before gathering up any cum that had trickled out from her with a finger and pressing it back inside her. She twitched and groaned tiredly at the feel of his finger entering her again. When he withdrew it he pressed a kiss to her entrance and finished cleaning her off. Once he was done she finally stood up fully, setting her clothes right again before sitting back onto the front row bench. 

Her veins buzzed with oxytocin, and she wanted nothing more than for Joseph to take her into wherever his room was here so they could take an afternoon nap together. He had left with the dirty water and cloth, returning empty handed and giving her a rare smile. His cheeks were still flushed but he seemed mostly composed again. He would have to teach her how he managed that. 

Grace watched him come closer and tilted her head back for a kiss, which he obliged. Leaning down, he kissed her tenderly and brushed a hand across her cheek. When he pulled away he grasped her hands and pulled her up with him. She pouted and rose, the prospect of taking a postcoital nap seeming farther and farther away when she took in the gleam in his eyes. 

"Come. The day is young. There is still work to be done."


	28. Rush

Joseph was right, there was much work to be done. 

The Project's preparation for the Collapse exceeded the scope of her expectations. Not only was there a whole barn filled with supplies to be sorted, but after they left the church she had let Joseph lead her to where they had cultivated the soil to grow crops. 

Grace vaguely recognized the area across from the barn. It looked different now, but on the night she had come to arrest Joseph it had been the space of a bonfire of sorts that was surrounded by racks of bliss bouquets. Now there were four large squares of hoed dirt, each with its own designated crop. There were crates filled with gardening equipment alongside blue containers of water. She was introduced to Mary and Delia, two homely looking women in burlap aprons stained with dirt and grass. 

They neither mentioned nor expressed anything about whether or not they knew who she was, greeting her as warmly as Mallory had. Joseph left her here, having other things to do around the compound, and she was taught the basics of what helping out with the crops meant. There were collard greens, turnips, carrots and potatoes. She learned that tilling the soil was important to soften the dirt and release any air and to help water easily soak in. The potatoes were just about ready for harvest, but they would soon be replaced with arugula because potatoes wouldn't grow well with the coming frost as winter approached.

It had to have been a few hours that she spent working under the warm sun, alternating between helping out in the garden, learning the ropes and bringing the equipment to the river for cleaning, and giving her muscles a respite and switching with someone in the warehouse. Organizing piles of junk was less demanding on her body and more of a practice in busy work - except when she completed a pile and had to carry it out to be put into a crate. Eventually someone would come and tag her out again, and then she would go back to the garden. 

Grace didn't stop to think about sunburn, but she must have been turning a little red because when Mallory had tagged her out from the barn last she'd slapped an obnoxious straw hat onto her head. 

"Yer gonna be redder 'n these turnips if you don't cover that pale skin of yours. I'll let you know if I find any sunscreen." She scolded, following it up with a guffaw that was so contagious it made Grace laugh right along with her.

In the meanwhile, as she had worked, she'd been sure to keep an eye out for Joseph as the day went by. He was never out of sight for long, talking to someone new every time she spotted him. He made time for every member who wished to speak with him, even if they just briefly checked in with him. Once, when she couldn't find him for a few minutes, she told Delia she was going to take a bathroom break and snooped around to find him. A part of her was paranoid, wondering if he was resting back in the church and leaving her to do free labor for him, but those thoughts were quickly, guiltily wiped away when she found him.

Grace had almost missed him completely, crouched down next to someone in the fenced off ' _Superbia_ ' area. There were few individuals here, wandering around the yard or sitting on the ground atop their mattresses, he went to each one and knelt in front of them. Some watched him wearily as he grasped their hands and spoke words she could not hear. Others scrambled back from him and shoved his hands away, refusing to look at him. He spoke to those in particular from a distance anyways, rubbing the notches in his rosary and lowering his head in prayer to them. 

Some wept, arms limp in his grasp. It was hard to describe what watching all of it made her feel, so before he could feel her eyes on him she went back to the gardens. 

When the sky had started to blend into hues of yellow and orange the work day was considered over. More guards came out from whichever of the houses they had been staying in and put out extra patrols to keep the compound safe after sundown. Grace took the opportunity to jog over to the river by the church and set her new hat down, splashing water on her face and arms to wash off some of the sweat she had worked up from her labors. 

By the time she was smoothing back some of the hair that had fallen from her hair tie Mallory had found her, leading her back to the barn for supper. She was confused as to how they could eat in a barn that was filled with reapings, but when they entered she saw that between when work had ended and when she'd finished her river bath, people had cleared the middlemost table. All of the belongings that were on it were moved onto other tables, making the piles there even larger for the time being. 

There were already people sitting and beginning to eat, large pots of what looked to be homemade stew were being passed around, and Grace stuck by Mallory awkwardly as they waited in line to get trays. It was simple, but smelled delicious and made her stomach rumble loudly. As she watched the trays get handed out she noticed that each tray had a different bowl, spoon, and glass. Obviously because they were all from the different houses they had been taken from. 

Everyone received various colorful assortments, but as they reached the front of the line she kept her thoughts on it to herself. There was a young girl, probably around 11 or 12 years old, helping someone who Grace assumed to be her mother hand out the trays. She couldn't judge the random assortment handed out when the little girl looked so proud at mixing the colors for every tray. By the time she took a seat and was ladling stew into her bowl she found herself smiling even after the long day of work. Pitcher's of water were passed around, everyone received a chunk of fresh bread, and the low thrum of chatter filled the warehouse-turned-mess hall. 

By the time the sun was fully set and the stars glittered in the dark Grace had a full belly and cheeks that hurt from smiling so much. It had been so long since she felt accomplished, it had been hard work but rewarding all the same. Mallory was a hoot, somehow managing to worm herself into Grace's heart since that afternoon. She had such a motherly personality that it was hard not to feel accepted by her, and of course she had taken it upon herself to personally take Grace under her wing. Cheryl had even lost some of the ice in her mask, asking cautiously about where she was born and what brought her to Hope County. She kept it simple, stating that she came here for a fresh start and to help people. 

She made small talk with her two new friends as they returned their trays and made for the door. Before they parted ways Mallory handed her a small tube of sunscreen, giving her nose a little poke and warning her about fair skin being under the sun all day. Cheryl, much to Grace's surprise, pressed an extra piece of bread she'd snagged into her palm and muttered something about her being too skinny. Grace watched them walk off, heart fluttering in her chest at the realization she had made real friends with members of Eden's Gate. It was something she had thought impossible once, and all in all it was one of the best days she'd had in a long while. 

Joseph was nowhere to be seen outside, so she ate her bread as she looked around before heading back to the church. The guards nodded and stepped to the side, allowing her to pull one of the doors open and enter by herself. 

The interior was dark, dimly lit by the candles hanging from the ceiling and lit up in front where the podium was. Joseph was here, sitting in a wooden chair that had been brought up the stairs. He had looked lost in thought, but turned his head to look at her when the door closed behind her. The corner of his lips pulled into a half hearted smile as his eyes drifted upwards and took in her hat, but it had been a long day and it showed in his eyes. Walking down the aisle, Grace waved what little was left of her bread at him before eating the last of it. 

"You peggies have good bread." She teased. He huffed and rubbed at his jaw. 

"Beth makes it herself. She used to be a baker." Beth, the woman who had helped hand out the trays, maybe? Grace hadn't asked her name. She leaned against one of the benches as a silence stretched between them. Softly, feeling the need to speak quietly in the dim light of the church, she offered a branch of conversation. 

"I didn't see you in the mess hall."

Joseph removed his aviators and set them down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked tired, stifling a yawn as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. When he finally looked at her he simply blinked languidly. 

"I was speaking with some of my lieutenants. I am sorry I could not join all of you for dinner." 

Grace shook her head and sighed, plucking off her straw hat and letting it hang off the edge of the bench. She turned on her heel and left the church, deciding it was about time she repay him for all of the mothering he did to her. It only took half of a sentence for the cooks to hear that the Father hadn't eaten before she was sent back to him with a tray of food. And yes, they said, Beth and her daughter Kate had been on tray duty that night. For all of the terror his name invoked around the county, his flock really seemed to care for him. No one had said a bad word about him, and no one hadn't gotten at least a simple greeting from him. 

One of the guards opened the door for her when she came back, so she thanked him and returned to Joseph. This time he was not roused from his thoughts until she had walked up the two steps and held the tray in front of his face. He sat up, mouth opening but having a rare moment of not having something to say. His hands reached out, grasping the tray of warm food from her and letting it rest in his lap. 

"Thank you, Grace. You did not have to." 

"I'm not gonna let you starve cuz you were too busy. I've been there before." She chided, not letting herself overthink it before pressing a kiss to his temple and sitting down on one of the steps. He watched the back of her head, contemplatively, before picking up a spoon and digging in. 

Grace had run herself ragged all over the county, living off of canned food and fish she had caught when there was a moment to go fishing. There was always so much going on it was easy to neglect herself as she focused on everything else. It hadn't been a healthy mindset. Over the last few days she'd taken to hunt and hike, she'd made sure to eat at least twice a day from whatever game she took down. Maybe Cheryl was right about the too skinny thing. 

She stretched her arms overhead, rotating her neck and arching her back, feeling the beginning aches that came from exerting herself more than usual. It was a good ache that reminded her of the help she had done, so she relaxed and let her shoulders droop as Joseph finished his dinner. 

When he was done she turned to watch him stand up and put the empty tray on his chair. 

"You know," she started, standing up and moving towards him, "I used to think I knew where I fit. Where I belonged in the scheme of everything." 

He watched her, hands hanging loosely at his sides as she came to stand in front of him. 

"But then you save me from myself. I come here. And I just don't know anymore." 

Joseph reached forward and ran his fingers across her jaw before stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt his chin atop her head and relaxed back into him as he hugged her.

"What your place in this world is, a dilemma every human on this earth faces." 

"I hate the feeling. Looking back and watching myself do bad things so confidently."

"If it is any comfort, you saved yourself Grace. I merely helped guide you." 

Joseph lowered his head down near her ear, pressing his nose into her hair and breathing in deeply. He splayed one hand flat on her stomach as the other ran along her arm, grasping her hand in his and holding it out to the side. Slowly, so that she could catch on to the movement, he began to sway them back and forth. She grinned, placing a hand over the one on her stomach as she moved with him. A simple, slow step back and forth. 

"What, none of that 'six inches for the Holy Spirit' stuff?" 

"Excuse me?"

"That's what the chaperone's at my school used to say when we slow danced. So we'd always be six inches apart from each other." 

"Did you dance with many boys?" Curiosity, amusement. 

"No. I much preferred staking out the cupcake table." 

She felt his chest rumble against her back as he laughed, the sound of it making her weak in the knees. It made her grateful he was holding her steady from behind. With the chirp of crickets and flickering candlelight it was almost romantic. _Almost_ , she thought, casting a side glance at the scratchings on the walls. 

"I know… I know there is still a war going on out there." 

He stepped back and twirled her once, bringing her back against his chest again and resuming. 

"But here, people are happy. You don't see this side of the Project anywhere else." 

He remained silent, resting his head against the side of hers as they swayed. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, caressing the soft skin there. She traced little circles on the back of the hand on her stomach. 

"Grace… I received word just awhile ago."

"Hmm?" 

"I wanted to wait until you had finished supper to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Cameron Burke. He has taken his own life." 

Grace paused mid-sway, throwing them off for a second. They both stopped as she took in the news before she prompted him to begin swaying again. 

"What happened?"

"They were keeping him at the jailhouse, trying to rehabilitate him. They never took his pistol away and he shot himself." A pause, then, "I don't think he fully recovered from the bliss even after Faith left this world." 

She let herself get lost in this new information. There was no foolproof way to reverse becoming an Angel, not that she knew of. And if Burke had been in the bliss for months, then there was no telling if he would be able to come out of it with his sanity. Whitehorse had talked with her about it the day she'd left to blow up Joseph's statue. If anything she had expected him to go berserk and get himself killed by the Resistance, but taking his own life? Wasn't the bliss supposed to make you happy? Grace turned these thoughts over in her head, realizing that she felt very detached from it all. The two of them hadn't gotten along in the few hours they had known each other. 

"That is a shame." She said, finally, trying to word it without seeming callous. "I can't say I was fond of him, but I've been at that precipice. It's a sucky way to go."

He nodded against her head and Grace felt him relax behind her, not having realized he'd even tensed up waiting for her to respond. She turned around in his arms to face him properly, swaying chest to chest with him. One hand on his shoulder, the other clasped in his out to the side still. His hand lay flat against her lower back now, keeping her flush against him. She could feel his heartbeat as they stared at each other. 

"So, have you enjoyed it here?" He asked, a hopeful tinge to his voice as he looked down at her. 

"...I haven't had a day this good in a long time."

Despite his exhaustion his eyes gleamed in the candlelight. He squeezed her closer, and she was pretty sure he could feel her heart hammering in her chest as surely as she could feel his. 

"Then stay, Grace. _Stay_." 

Her brow furrowed, an affirmative on the tip of her tongue when a sudden rush of nerves ran down her spine. It scared her that she was so ready to say yes to him, not realizing she had reached the point where she could make this decision easily. That's what this all came down to, didn't it? Picking a side. Either one she picked she would be losing friends and people she'd grown to care about. He continued in her silence. 

"There is a place for you here. I will ask nothing of you that you aren't prepared to give. I will not send you out to take back property, or shed any blood. I will look after you as I do all of my flock." 

He stepped back, releasing her and leaving her near the podium. She stood, puzzling over her personal impasse while he went to retrieve something. Today had been wonderful, and she could definitely see herself belonging here. But she couldn't stop thinking of Sharky, Kim, even Hudson. What would they all say if they found out she joined Eden's Gate? They would hate her. Selfishly she never wanted to face that. Joseph walked back over, holding a long white cloth in his hands. 

As he came close he held out the material to her. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached out a hand and ran her fingers over it. It was soft, she took hold of it and let it unfold. The breath she had been holding whooshed from her as she took in the sun dress. It looked like Faith's had, but the sleeves were shorter, just past her shoulders. It had none of lace covering that Rachel's had, and there were soft blue flower petals stitched seamlessly to flow along the hem of the skirt. 

"I love you, Grace. Stand at my side." He breathed, standing before her, urging her with that passionate gaze she had grown to love. Where had he gotten this dress? Did he find it, or have it made for her? Did it used to be…Faith's? Her thoughts churned, heart racing through a number of emotions. What to believe, what to think, where to go. 

"I… Joseph…"

He stepped closer, further into her space as she lowered the dress, knuckles turning white as she gripped it. She looked up, blinking back tears that came forth from her rush of emotions. 

"I'm not another Faith." She blurted before she could stop herself, holding out the dress back to him. He blinked and stopped his advance, a look of confusion crossing his face as he slowly reached up and took hold of the dress she'd shoved towards his chest. His eyes searched hers and looked down over the dress. When he looked back again there was a frown on his lips, his mouth opening to speak at the same time her radio crackled to life. 

"Rook? Rook you there? It's, _ahh_ , it's Kim!" 

Grace jumped and her hand flew to the radio at her hip, covered by her shirt. She had completely forgotten it was there until now. 

"Someone pick up, I can't - _oww_ \- I can't get a hold of Nick and I think this baby wants out!" 

A tear escaped and slid down her cheek, why did tonight have to end like this? It was such a good day, she wanted to cherish it. But the truth is she was still torn about what her joining him would mean for her friends. She took a step away, then another. He watched her solemnly as she retreated, the dress hanging limply from his hands.

"I can't decide this right now. I'm sorry." She whispered, backing down the steps before turning and running from the church. He didn't chase after her, and his guards didn't stop her. 

By the time she had reached where she'd stashed her boat she was a blubbering mess, wiping her nose with one sleeve and her tears with the other. She knew this wasn't the end of anything, but it was a final hurdle she had to get through before deciding on a place that would affect the county. Grace couldn't afford to be selfish and make a mistake, had to contemplate how she would be able to protect people the most from either side. 

Was she giving up on the Resistance too soon, trusting Eden's Gate too easily? Or was everything as right as it felt, being at this compound. She made sure her bag was still in the boat with her change of clothes before pushing it from the shore and hopping in. As she started up the engine she radioed Kim back to let her know she was on the way and would try and get in touch with Nick. 

She sped away, trying to focus on getting to the Rye's safely and not on the man she had left standing alone in his church.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and feedback! They get me so pumped to write. I have been coming home from work everyday brimming with ideas, thus the frequent updates.


	29. Mortal

By the time she was running up the Rye's front lawn Grace had changed into her regular clothes once more. She was still feeling pained and conflicted over what had happened with Joseph, but she had pushed away those emotions for the time being to help Kim out. She bounded up the steps, ignoring the ' _Sinner_ ' painted on the front of their house as she rushed, nearly knocking over one of the potted plants on the porch. For a moment she hesitated, hand inches from the doorknob, before deciding it better to knock and avoid startling the pregnant woman. 

"It's open!" Came a yell from inside. 

Grace immediately swung the door open and closed it behind her again, stepping inside and spotting Kim sitting on the couch in the living room. Her face was red and her hair was matted with sweat as she heaved in deep breaths. It was just as painful looking as what she had seen in the movies, and those breaths probably weren't as long and deep as they were supposed to be. At least from what she had seen in Lamaze classes. In movies. 

"Deputy, you came! Thank God!"

She approached slowly and gaped uselessly for a second, now that the rush to get here was over she was left with a ' _I didn't think about what I'd do once I got here_ ' realization. 

"Where the _fuck_ is Nick? Ooh!" Kim groaned, grasping her stomach and cringing through another contraction. 

Grace darted forward and began to reach a hand out for Kim to hold onto when the door banged open behind them. She spun around and they both looked at Nick - who was still wearing his flight aviators even at this late hour. 

"Whoa, what the hell is going on, Kim?" He left the door open behind him, coming to his wife's side and reaching out to help her up. Grace stepped back to allow them room. 

"Where the fuck have you been? Gimme your hand!" She growled, literally grasping onto his hand so tightly it made Grace wince just to see it, "Our little girl has decided it's time." 

"No no no no no no, Nick Jr is not due for another week-- _oww_. Ow. Kim. _Kim_. You're hurtin' my hand, you're hurtin' my hand." 

Kim, as it turns out, did not care. She kept a death grip on him, using him as leverage to help hoist herself up. Grace offered her hand wearily to help her get upright, afterwards dropping her hand away like a coward. Her reasoning was that if her hand was broken she couldn't drive them to the clinic. She stayed hovering at Kim's other side in case she lost her balance and went all humpty dumpty, exchanging nervous glances with Nick. 

"We gotta get into the car." Kim commanded, and Nick held onto her - immediately leading her through the living room and out the open front door. 

"C'mon, c'mon, _oww_ , ah, you're so strong...OK OK OK." It would have been cute to watch if not for the urgency of it all and the unnatural red his fingertips were turning. They both helped Kim down the porch steps before Nick turned and handed Grace the keys to his truck. 

"Deputy, you're the driver." 

Right. Driving she could do. She could be great at driving. 

Once Kim was past the steps Grace ran forward and unlocked the car, opening the back door for them and making sure they got seated inside okay before hopping into the driver's seat and cranking the engine over. 

"Drive!" Kim growled impatiently, and as she pulled out onto the road Grace wasn't sure who was making the most pained noises, Kim or Nick. 

"Ow, ow, _ow_ , OK…" 

"Oh shit, _shit_ ow!" 

Grace took directions from Nick until her GPS loaded up, having a suspicious feeling like she would need it if either one of the spouses in her backseat were too preoccupied arguing to give her directions. Nick seemed to favor reckless shortcuts, and Kim had a specific route she wanted Grace to stick to. At this speed it would only be a few minutes, but she would never forgive herself if she didn't get there in time and Kim had to give birth in a forest. Everytime she thought they were making good time, though, Hope County reminded her that nothing was ever so easy. 

One of the first obstacles in their way turned out to be pigs. 

_Why_ did this small group of pigs choose _this_ particular dirt road to traipse across? They were a long way from whatever farm they had roamed from. Giving Kim a little warning first, she slowed and honked at them. Roadkill didn't really bother her, but it would be bumpy and probably wasn't something Kim wanted to see at this point in time. 

Once the pigs were behind them, Nick instructed her to go right on through Kellett Cattle Co. The outpost was quiet for the night, asleep except for the patrols, so she winced apologetically as she revved straight through it and burst through the wooden fence at the back. That probably startled everyone awake, and she resolved to come back at some point and help fix the fence. Besides some dents in the front fender they were none the worse for wear, so Grace barreled on for a little less than half a minute before the next obstacle came into view. 

Right at the beginning of the bridge they were to drive over was a large tanker being encroached upon by a spreading brush fire. Nick cursed again and tried to distract Kim from the very obvious fire that they were driving past. With luck they were able to drive by it, the fire only licking at the sides of their car before they were beyond it. Grace's worry grew as they continued onward, fingers tapping along the wheel and foot pressing down tensely against the gas. Kim's heavy breathing and pained sounds were giving her nerves by proximity.

The one time they trusted her with driving and there just had to be a million things making the ride precarious. Rounding a corner she groaned at the long stretch of road in front of her. She had been down this road before in the past and it had been clear, but now there were at least a dozen large hay bales scattered this way and that across the asphalt. 

"Who would put all this hay in the middle of the road?" Grace yelled. Her grip on the wheel turned white, speaking for the first time since the drive started as panic got the better of her. She swerved expertly around the road, making Kim and Nick slide in the backseat but successfully maneuvering without incident. It was around this time she found herself wishing she'd tried out a Clutch Nixon or two with Sharky and Hurk, but they had always seemed ridiculous. That kind of stunt practice would have come in handy right about now, though. Maybe her definition of ridiculous didn't match up with what the reality of living in Hope County was. 

Especially now that she spotted street cones and road flares up ahead, framing each side of a wide wooden ramp. It both made sense and made no sense at the same time. Nonsensical in that it turned an otherwise smooth road into a _ramp_ , and sensical because she had no trouble imagining people setting it up to do stunts on in their spare time. That was just the spirit of the people here, especially in the absence of regular law enforcement. 

"You've gotta be kidding me." She muttered under her breath, barking out an order for the two people in her backseat to hold on tight. 

"WHO PUT THIS STUFF HERE?" Kim bellowed. 

"Hang tight, Kim!" 

Grace gunned it, keeping her speed up knowing that going slower would be unpleasantly bumpier than just rolling right through it. Thankfully they didn't fly up too high, landing back on the ground with a hard jostle. The truck was tough and continued on as if nothing had happened to it, but Grace had bit her tongue during the landing was now nursed it in her mouth sourly. She rolled down her window, feeling hot with the stress this ride was turning out to be. 

"We're almost there, Dep!" 

Nick called out to her, an arm around Kim's shoulders and his other tensed as Kim squeezed the dickens out of his hand. Good thing they were heading to a doctor, because that hand definitely would need some medical attention. As they neared the clinic she did a double take at movement she saw in the sky. It was hard to spot at first in the absence of moonlight, but Grace slowed down to let it fly past them. Her and Nick were leaning forward to look outside the windshield and watch it's descent. One of the engines was up in flames, and it slowly but surely landed down the road further ahead of them with a scraping sound that grated on their ears as the metal scraped and sparked against the road. It exploded a few seconds later, the reverberations shaking the truck. 

"What the- what the _hell_ was that?" Kim groaned, closing her eyes in pain and trying not to focus on the crazy going on's they came across. 

"A...a plane." Nick clarified, adjusting his ball cap and missing the hard eye roll his wife directed at him. 

There was really nothing else she could say about all this. Was she cursed? This could be karma for leaving Joseph earlier, or a challenge that would just make the reward that much sweeter. Probably the former. She was still guilting pretty hard about it and there would be no sleeping for her tonight if they didn't make it in time. 

Blessedly that was the last obstacle thrown in their path, soon the truck skidded to a halt outside of the Hope County Clinic. Grace put the car in park and hopped out, running around to the passenger side door and helping Kim out with Nick. They thanked her profusely and disappeared inside, leaving her quivering with adrenaline under the flickering fluorescent bulbs by the doors. 

The nights had grown colder than she remembered, soon she would be able to see the fog of her breath and the morning dew turning to fragile white frost. Peeking inside the window to the clinic's entrance, she decided she would rather sit on the hood of Nick's truck than wait inside in the waiting area. Being surrounded by walls felt like too much right now, so she sat and rubbed her hands anxiously as the minutes passed. 

Without the excuse, no, the preoccupation of helping her friends, there was no reason for what had happened earlier not to flood back to the forefront of her mind. Grace could still see Joseph, watching her forlornly as she backed away. She wasn't sure if she had made the right choice in leaving - but she had been so flustered, so caught off guard. Really, she should have thought about it already. There was always the knowledge that at some point she would have to make a choice, but instead she chose to live in the moment for as long as she could. And now she'd hurt Joseph. 

She pressed a palm hard to her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Grace grit her teeth as her heart twisted in her chest. It was that damned dress. It could have passed for a wedding dress. The cotton was so soft, and blue was her favorite color, the flower petals were her favorite part. But she remembered another brown haired girl that had been devoted to Joseph, frolicking around in a white flowered dress… 

And that woman tattooed on his arm. She'd yet to even ask about her. 

Why did she get so scared at the last moment? Why couldn't she have just stayed and asked him these questions? Instead she was a total ass, running at the first errant thought that crossed her mind. He had given her so much, and she always doubted him. Grace prided herself on being a protector, but seemed to struggle protecting her loved ones from herself. 

The night continued on, the sounds of nature occasionally interrupted by Kim's screams as a contraction hit or the pushing started. Grace slid off of the hood and stared at her radio, thumbing over the push to talk button over and over. If she would feel this way the whole night then she might have a heart attack. She could just radio him. Or not. 

Maybe he wanted nothing to do with her. 

Maybe she always misjudged things. 

She should really just talk to him about it. Be open and honest. 

But she was a coward. 

And if he didn't want to speak with her than that would be even more painful. 

The warbling sound of crying reached her, pulling her from her turmoil and making her glance up from the radio in her hand. It stopped for a bit and then started up again, the first cries of Kim and Nick's baby. Grace paced back and forth outside the door, alternating between smiling, grinning and fighting off tears of relief. Everything was fine, the baby was delivered safely. At least her running away had resulted in something good. 

She laughed to herself and let out a whoosh of air, doing a tiny victory dance that Sharky would have been proud of. They didn't immediately come out, so after a few minutes of fidgeting restlessly Grace resigned herself to pacing some more bef- 

"Hey, wanna come meet your goddaughter?" Nick called from behind her. 

She spun around and gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as he wheeled Kim out of the clinic. Kim sat calmly in the wheelchair, so serene compared to the pained mess she had been an hour or so ago. As they came closer she saw a tiny face amidst a swath of pink blanket. Sniffling, having been on an emotional coaster all night, Grace knelt in front of Kim and smiled brightly. 

"Congratulations Kim. Nick." She choked out. 

Kim reached forward and poked at the little girl's nose, making her nuzzle deeper into the blankets. "She's perfect." Grace whispered, resting her chin in her palm as she admired the newborn. When was the last time she had seen a baby? Long before she had arrived in the Sheriff's Office all those months ago. For awhile they all were content to stay still and be in awe at the new life that had been brought into the world. 

"She's so beautiful. Well, looks like I'm gonna have to change the name of my business after all." 

Kim and Grace shared a knowing look, keeping any comments to themselves. Kim reached out and grasped her hand, eyes shining with sincerity. 

"You probably don't hear this enough, but...thank you." 

Grace swallowed, recognizing a flash of sympathy in Kim's eyes that made her weary. Fighting to keep her lower lip from wobbling, she nodded without a word and stood up. She stayed back after helping Kim and her baby into the car, waving to them as they drove off and left a cloud of dust in their wake. Seeing that little face was just another one of the things she could add that made this day great. And it had been a good day. 

She sat down on a bench and clenched her fists. The first thing she found she wanted to do was tell Joseph all about it. 

\----- 

Life was a crazy, beautiful thing. That was what Grace was thinking as she stripped and bathed herself in a river. The water was freezing this late at night, but she had a whole day's labor to wash off, not to mention the intimate time she'd spent with Joseph in the morning. By the time she walked back to shore and dried herself off with a towel from her pack she had calmed down. Nothing like ice cold water to make you snap to attention and forget the little things. 

Dressing herself, she opened her pack to put her old clothes back in when her eyes caught the Eden's Gate clothes she had hastily stuffed inside. She reached in and ran her fingers over the shirt, taking it out and holding it up to her nose to breathe it in before she could stop herself. 

She could still smell Joseph on it. Abruptly jerking it away she shoved it back inside and hoisted her pack over her shoulder. No more crying tonight, at some point the tears had to stop and she had to be an adult who handled her shit. On the bright side of things the fact that they didn't treat her differently meant that Dutch hadn't spilled everything about her to the Resistance, so at least there was that. 

_Don't be a coward_ , she thought, gripping her radio tightly as she made her way to the main road. Her hair was still wet, and even the light breeze made her shiver. Her mother had always told her not to go outside with wet hair, but Grace was just so good at breaking the rules lately. She tuned to frequency thirty three and took some shaky breaths, clearing her throat unnecessarily as her normal walk turned into a nervous gait. 

"Joseph." 

Every second that passed where he didn't answer made her want to unsheathe the knife from her boot and stab herself. Anyone who had upset someone they cared for deeply would know the feeling, that precipice between ' _will we make up?_ ' and ' _will they give up on me now?_ ' She stayed along the edge of the road in the grass and made her way slowly towards Falls End. 

"Joseph, please answer." 

Nothing. Her heart sank, fear welling up inside her as the silence continued on. He had done so much to help her, _not now, not now, just let me ask some questions, just say something to me…_

"Please." She whispered into the receiver, pressing the radio into her cheek and praying to whatever power there was to throw her a bone. 

"Grace." 

Startled and elated, Grace inhaled sharply and fumbled with the device, nearly dropping it. 

"I was afraid you-- that you wouldn't want to talk to me again." She babbled, feeling like a foolish teenager. But this was more than a crush, more than infatuation or curiosity. Even now she could remember the feel of his hand holding hers, the feeling of him laughing against her back. 

"What do you need?" 

"I-uh, nothing. I wanted to hear your voice."

"I see." 

"Why do you ask that?"

"Normally you come to me when you need something. Like love. Or healing. All things I am happy to provide to you."

Ouch. Okay. There was no malice in his tone, just quiet resignation. But the truth hurt a bit and made her feel like a piece of crap, but at least he was open to a dialogue with her. 

"I'm so sorry, Joseph. The way I left earlier, that was wrong of me. I should have stayed longer and talked it over with you." 

While she waited on a reply she felt a repetitive thud after her footsteps hit the ground as she walked, making her stop and blinking dizzily. It had felt like she could feel Joseph's steps alongside hers. Like they had been walking in the same direction just then. She shook it off and continued. 

"I panicked. The whole idea of us being together openly… Of leaving the Resistance. It scares the crap out of me." She confessed, knowing the best way to ask him to understand or forgive her would be through honesty, by pouring herself out to him like he had always asked of her. Eventually, to her relief, he spoke again. 

"You deny what comes naturally. What is meant to be." 

"I'm sorry." 

"If you are seeking my forgiveness, know that you've had it. I already know the thoughts that drive you, Grace. I am more interested in the path you will take now." 

"I know what I want. At least, I'm pretty sure I do. I just...need to ask you more questions first. Before I make my choice."

"...It is late now. When the sun rises--" 

"Whose dress was that?" She blurted, the radio turning warm from use in her hand as she got closer to Fall's End. 

"...Yours, Grace." 

"Was it one of Faith's?" 

Silence. She bit her lip, needing to know but resenting the fact he was probably put off at the inquiry. When he responded his voice had lost some of it's edge. 

"No. It was not." He did not elaborate, didn't offer up explanations or comforting words in the face of her suspicion. As in everything he was sure of himself and irked when doubt was cast towards him. 

"You...you said you wouldn't make me do anything I didn't want to." 

"I did." 

"I don't want to be another Faith. Not to you, not to anyone. Just...just tell me you don't see me as a replacement. I saw that dress, Joe, and all I saw was Faith." 

"You are not a replacement, Grace Elisabeth Rook. Have I ever treated you in a way that made you feel like a Faith?" He asked, patient as a saint with her. 

"No." 

"Have I asked you to cultivate bliss and spread my Word?" 

"...No."

"What is it that I ask of you?" 

Grace felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, grateful that they weren't face to face so he couldn't see her chagrin. This is why she should have talked to him first before running away, he always had a way of assuring her and rationalizing things when her own mind was too scrambled to sort through it all. 

"To stay with you. At your side." She confirmed quietly, looking down at her boots as she kicked a rock away into the tall grass. 

"And how do I want that?" He asked, voice low enough now that she needed to raise the radio higher. Grace had to think this one over for a second before remembering their first night together. The matching sins adorning their lower stomachs and what he had said. 

"...you want to...marry me?" She mumbled, scratching her head and coming to a stop in her trek to town. She could see the street lights in the distance. 

He hummed his confirmation. 

"Do you have any other questions, Grace?" This time she let him sit in silence, casting her gaze upwards at the millions of twinkling stars dotting the night sky. Any other questions she had she could ask him in person. 

"Just a request." 

A pause, then, wearily, "What do you ask of me?"

"...Baptism. I want to be baptized. Again. My last one went awry." Grace smiled, remembering John nearly drowning her in a bliss filled river. Joseph had helped her then, too. 

"Come to me in the morning." 

Her heart fluttering joyfully, she nodded even though he could not see her. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, they made plans to meet in the morning and talk some more, make the bounds of their relationship clear, and plan for her baptism. Maybe she should stop by the Rye's before she left in the morning, just to double check they were doing okay with the new baby. Saying their goodbyes, Grace holstered her radio and resumed walking with a lightness to her step. 

Tomorrow would fix her mess, he hadn't given up on her. She would join him and they would figure everything else out together. If she made some concessions then he would probably meet her halfway like he usually did. Things could change. Be different. This county didn't have to be a war zone and maybe there was a way to convince everyone to make sure their bunkers were stocked. 

So lost Grace was in her optimistic thoughts that she did not hear the steps moving through the grass. Didn't pay attention to the presence coming up behind her. 

The only thing she knew was the feeling of something heavy and solid knocking into the back of her head. The strike felt like agony. Then there was the scratch of the asphalt on her face when she fell forward, the impact from the fall hurting her ribs. Spots danced in her vision, the back of her head felt hot, a warm trickle of something sliding down her neck. Grace could feel the throbbing of her pulse resonating through her skull. It was hard to focus on what was happening after that, only able to grasp from one moment to the other. They kept sliding through her fingers like smoke and she couldn't find purchase. 

One second she sighted the ground and fields beyond. Next her eyes focused on her radio that had clattered to the ground in front of her. Another second and there was the sight of pair of boots. Then two pairs. Grace tried to roll her eyes up and get a look at who had got the jump on her, but it made the backs of her eyes hurt so she stopped. When she tried to move, to twitch her fingers towards her radio, she found her body wasn't responding. She was fading into black, feebly fighting to stay awake. Until someone crouched down and grabbed her shoulders, beginning to pull her body up. It sent a shooting pain sparking down the back of her head, a final push that had her relinquishing herself to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pretty much started writing this fic for the next few chapters. I am so excited to finally start writing them :) Hope you enjoyed!


	30. Congnizance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I wouldn't keep you waiting long!

In her mind the world was tilting, rising up and caving on itself as if an earthquake had split a deep crevasse down it's center. There was no balancing point. Grace felt herself break with it, buzzing with dizziness as she tried to grasp for stability. 

Then she was sliding away from the crumbling world and further into darkness, falling, trapped in an off-balance terror. Like when you reach the top of a flight of stairs thinking there is one more step than there actually was, that feeling of fear as your foot fell through thin air. It was a relentless apprehension that made her want to scream. And just when she thought her heart couldn't take it anymore, everything simply ceased to be. 

With a sharp inhale Grace jolted awake, limbs flailing weakly as if to catch herself from falling. When she realized she was laying down she relaxed fractionally, trying to focus on where she found herself. Which was easier said than done, considering the world was still sort of spinning.

Breathing heavily she found herself looking up at the ceiling of...a car? She shifted, feeling the press of upholstery against her back. Trying to look around too much made her stomach roll, but she was able to glance out the side window and see the night sky. It hadn't been that long, then. The car wasn't in motion but she listened as whoever was in the driver's seat put it into park and stepped out, slamming the door behind them. 

The back of her head pounded painfully, throbbing so much she felt it in the back of her eyes. A wave of nausea washed over her, as if it had been politely waiting for her to wake up before bothering her. Grace grunted and reached her hands up behind her head, fingers shakily fumbling around for the door handle. Her heart thumped, saliva pooling in her mouth as her stomach lurched. 

Panicking until she found it a few moments later, she grasped the handle and pulled as hard as her weakened body was able to. Thankfully it wasn't locked, swinging open noisily in time for her to roll onto her stomach, stick her head out the side and empty the contents of her stomach onto the ground. It eased her dizziness somewhat and helped her shaking slow.

The sound of footsteps came around the car, but her stomach wasn't quite done being aggravated, so she stayed half hanging out of the backseat until it subsided. She gathered up the spit in her mouth and hacked it out, ridding herself of any unwanted remnants of her sickness. There was a _tsk_ of disgust as the steps came nearer, before a pair of boots entered her periphery. She had seen these boots before, but was almost too scared to look up. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she opted to catch her breath first.

"Come on. I didn't hit you _that_ hard, Deputy." 

That voice. Grace groaned and pulled her upper half back into the backseat. She tried to ignore the aftertaste of vomit in her mouth, gingerly feeling at the back of her head where most of her pain was originating from. Her fingers met with semi dried blood and crusted hair over what was definitely a nasty lump of swelling. It stung and throbbed, the blood copious enough to have ran down the back of her neck. 

Her ribs and left cheek hurt, too, but she was too disoriented to bother checking them. Bringing herself into a sitting position ever so slowly, she let her arm drop and saw crimson smeared on her fingers. Grace's vision swam with every pulse of her skull but she rolled her head to the side enough to take in the form of Armstrong.

She could make out her cap and army fatigues, but what hooked her attention most of all was the metal barrel of her rifle pointing directly at her. 

"Get it together, Dep. We're almost there." 

Grace's gaze drifted from the barrel of the gun up to her friends face, regaining some clarity with every minute that passed. She had been walking, had just finished radioing Joseph. They were going to baptise her in the morning, she had asked him to. Then a hard knock to the back of her head. Hard ground rushing up to meet her. Her lips were dry, her tongue darting out to wet them after she cleared her raw throat. 

"What...what'd ya do that for?" Grace whined, voice coming out strained and laced with her confusion. This didn't make sense. The Resistance didn't attack her. Let alone one of her friends. Armstrong snorted and leaned against the open car door, making sure not to step in the mess Grace had created. She never took her rifle off of her, knowing even in this state the Deputy was a resourceful individual. 

"I have some questions before we keep goin'. And you're gonna answer honestly, cuz I don't have the patience for this shit."

Grace let her head rest gently against the back of the itchy seat. Her stomach was still cross with her but was done throwing a tantrum for now, so she focused on her breathing and keeping the weight off the swollen part of her head. If she had a concussion then it would be smart to not fall asleep until she saw a doctor. The only acknowledgement she gave that she'd heard the sniper was a furrowing of her brow and slight tilting of her head. It was all she could muster. Meanwhile the slow acceptance that Armstrong had been the one to hurt her was starting to sting more than her head. 

"Where were the bodies at Jessop's?"

Grace sat still, a befuddled look in her eyes as she struggled to recall the time Armstrong was referring to. Henbane. The sickly sweet smell of bliss flowers. The conservatory there, it had belonged to Rachel's family. She'd been sent after a guy named Feeney. The information was all there but came to her in out of order fragments. Then her mind stuck on white dresses, some with pink flowers, some with blue. The soft material flowing, soaked in a lake of bliss. Her eyes must have lost their focus as she got taken away by memory, because when she came back to reality her head had snapped to the side - Armstrong having smacked her cheek roughly to get her attention. 

"What do you mean?" She asked, managing to be a bit louder as pain blossomed on her already sore cheek. Definitely getting exasperated, and scared because she wouldn't want to defend herself and wind up hurting Armstrong in the process. Even now, after what she was doing. 

And Armstrong hadn't been lying, she really had no patience for this stuff. In an instant her gun had lowered and she'd yanked Grace forward by the front of shirt. Her wounds protested, another grunt of discomfort escaping her lips as her head fell forward. The collar of her shirt dug into the back of her neck bitingly, and she made herself lift her chin up to look her in the eye as she was questioned. 

"I'd been scouting that outpost for a _week_. It was one of the most heavily guarded outposts in the Henbane. No fuckin' way you could've taken that place and not left a single body. A single drop of blood." 

Oh. That's right. The conservatory was a pretty big place, lots of bliss flowers and white painted trellis. There we so many guards that she had decided just to rappel in. She had been adrift in a haze of numbness, not having anymore of herself left to give as she went around the Henbane liberating it's last few outposts. She'd gotten a lot of kills in a small number of days. Grace had been close to losing herself completely, had refused the help Joseph had always offered out of weariness and pride. 

Then she'd stumbled into him...again. Quite on accident. At Jessop's he saved her that day, evacuating the outpost without any need for violence or fighting. He'd done that for her. 

Of course there weren't bodies or blood, everything had been simple and peaceful. She remembered not being able to find Armstrong again after she'd first showed up, but had just assumed she'd been busy helping the other members set things up to occupy the place.

"You attacked me...to ask that?" 

"Are you a mole for Eden's Gate, Deputy?" 

" _What_?" Grace spat, worry turning into disbelief. She had to actively stop herself from jerking back and hurting her head more. 

"How else could you have gotten those damned peggies to leave?" 

The doubt cast upon her after all she had done, it made some of that familiar wrath boil up. But she found a calm place within herself, deciding who she wanted to be in the face of what was happening, and let go of the anger by the time she looked her back in the eye.

"I left well enough alone." 

Armstrong released her shirt with a huff and raised her rifle once more, the barrel pressing into her chest and pushing her back against the seat once again. 

"Go ahead, be smart. I _know_ what you've been doing." 

"Apparently not." 

"I followed you. Dutch called and asked me to keep an eye on you, said you might be getting in over your head. So I did. I didn't see what the big deal about you hunting for a few days was." Armstrong's upper lip drew back into a snarl as her grip tightened on the stock of her weapon. "Until I saw you put on some fuckin' peggie clothes and speed off towards the Father's compound." 

Grace closed her eyes, dread seeping into her bones. She hadn't made moves against the Resistance, hadn't given Joseph any information to use against them. Not that he had even asked, he wouldn't use her like that. Knew she would never hurt her friends in the name of his cause. To be with Joseph would be to be with a man that had hurt her friends, and that was the only betrayal on her shoulders. Though one of the reasons she hadn't told anyone was because no one would believe that she was just...just... 

"You won't kill them, or anybody, whatever. But I watched you _mourn_ some random cult asshole at Gardenview. You came back from John's bunker like it hadn't phased you at all. You hardly tune into Resistance frequencies anymore. They don't attack when you're around and you keep their bible under your goddamn mattress. I'm not fuckin' _stupid_!" Armstrong yelled, voice building louder as she listed off all of the damning evidence she could think of. She kept her barrel shoved in front of her face, and the look of hurt and anger in her expression almost made Grace apologize. If she hadn't of nearly split her skull open and stuffed her into a car. 

Grace opted to stay still, not wanting to inadvertently anger her anymore than she already was. They were silent, staring at each other wearily until Armstrong lowered her gun and reached into her pocket. Her eyes followed the movement, body tensing as she pulled her hand out and brandished what looked to be a marker - until she popped the cap off and the silver tip of a needle glinted. 

"What the hell? What are you _thinking_ , Armstrong?" She hissed, scrambling back towards the other passenger side door. It wouldn't be locked, she just had to twist and maneuver quickly enough to push it open and roll out. But the distance between them was too close, Grace's reflexes too muddled. Before she could finish turning towards the door the syringe had plunged into the flesh of her thigh, making her yelp in surprise and pain. 

Whatever it was worked quickly, a tingling numbness spreading up her leg and blurring her vision again. She crawled across the back seat towards the door, but her fingers had barely brushed against the handle before her arms gave out. She blinked blearily at the back of the front seats, trying to mumble something, anything as her consciousness was taken from her.

The last thing she heard was her friends voice, the derisive tone echoing in her ears.

"I think you've lost your fuckin' mind, Grace."

\-----

_"When I finish it you have to wear it."_

_"Yes, my love."_

_"I'm serious. Promise?"_

_A warm chuckle._

_"I promise."_

_Grace trailed around the base of a great magnolia tree. It's pink flowers were in bloom, wind causing some petals to fall and flutter past in the air. They littered the ground, nearly covering up most of the grass with their pink leaves. The trunk was sturdy and strong, extending across the ground and twisting over the edge of the high purchase it had grown upon. Joseph sat at it's base with his legs crossed, arms draped over his knees as his fingers played idly with the fresh grass there. He loved to watch her._

_She went around the trunk collecting thin branches, some which had no blossom upon it, and others that still did. The sun felt good on her shoulders as she weaved a small flower crown deftly with her small hands. Her and Maddie used to do this all the time. They would go around to their neighbors houses and pluck a flower or two from their lawns and gardens, competing to see who could make the prettiest crown._

_Maddie always won. But this crown was made out of love, not competition. So by the time she had finished it she knew it was perfect. Smiling, she returned to Joseph. Kneeling in front of him he gave her a knowing look as she gently placed the flower crown atop his head. His palm came up and cradled her cheek, if anything looking more handsome with his new accessory._

_"It suits you." Grace confirmed, looking satisfied._

_"It should. My wife made it especially for me."_

_A red flush creeped up her neck, still not used to hearing herself called that. They sat together beneath the tree. Looking up at the blue sky she let her thoughts wander as she leaned her head on Joseph's warm shoulder. There were so many people she wished were still alive to see how splendid the sky looked._

_They made daily trips up here to check on the tree and have alone time together. So much had happened, sometimes they needed to distance themselves from everyone and be alone together, to reset themselves and talk about everything and nothing. His religious zeal had quelled as time passed, still strong but not as all consuming. They had both evened each other out over the years._

_"This is everything I thought it would be." She sighed._

_"If only it could last forever."_

_Grace's smile dropped a bit as she turned her head to look up at him. His beard was getting a little long, she would have to trim it soon. Reaching a hand up she played with the hair curling around his ears, tickling at his neck as she did. He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss._

_"Why can't it?"_

_"Every dream ends. One always wakes up." He looked down at her, sadly._

_Her gaze was drawn to his grasp on her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles comfortingly._

_"Wake up?"_

_There was a sudden weight pressing into her side, drawing her attention down towards the source of it. A little girl curled up against her, with eyes as green as Grace's. A thick red ribbon tied like a headband stood out brightly against her brown hair. She would recognize that face anywhere, no matter what age. Madeline. A perfect, innocent copy. Bewildered, Grace lifted the girls chin up, intent on memorizing every inch of her face._

_"Everyone wakes up." She giggled, showing off her toothy smile. Before she could lean forward and give her a hug she felt Joseph's hands on her shoulders, grabbing her attention back._

_"Grace, wake up."_

"Time to wake up, Grace!" Armstrong demanded, snapping her fingers in front of her face. Her head shot up, looking around for Joseph and her sister, disoriented, before coming fully out of her dream. When she tried to move she found herself tied firmly, sleepily taking in the rope wrapped around her chest, legs and arms as she sat upright in a chair. 

Ignoring Armstrong for the moment she wriggled, testing how tight the bonds were. They were pretty well done, not tight enough to constrict blood flow but tight enough to keep her strapped down. Whatever she had been injected with was still felt in her system, her muscles pliant and relaxed. Probably the only reason she wasn't freaking out at her predicament. She leveled a sharp glare at the woman in front of her before someone came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. 

"That's enough, Armstrong. She's up." 

"We won't be able to get anything out of her like this." 

"And I told you not to dose her with the whole syringe. Go take a walk, cool off." The deep voice offered, Grace tried to jerk her shoulder from his grasp but didn't have much freedom of movement. Reluctantly, with one last distrustful glance in her direction, Armstrong left up a set of wooden stairs. Was she below ground? 

The man behind her let go of her shoulder, and she heard movement and the sound of things being rustled around behind her. When he touched her again it was to brush her hair over her shoulders, parting it as much he could to get a look at where she was bleeding from. His sigh of exasperation was familiar, as well as the smell of his musty cologne. There was a sudden stinging sensation on her head and she cursed out loud, jerking within her bindings as what she assumed to be alcohol was applied to her head. 

"Couldn't just leave me alone, Dutch?" She whispered, closing her watering eyes as he prodded at her injury. 

"No loose ends, kiddo. No variables." 

"I just wanted to be left alone." 

Her jaw clenched as he meticulously cleaned her wound, gulping tensely as she heard the telltale sounds of metal and hiss of fiber being threaded. She hated stitches. 

"Yeah, I get that. I'm not alone on that island because I love company." 

Grace acquiesced to that, though still not sure at all what they intended to do with her now that they'd kidnapped her. Where even had they taken her? Most of the night had been spent unconscious, hopefully she could stay awake without being knocked out or drugged again. 

"But," he continued, "I'm not about to ignore one of the Resistance's key members running off with Joseph Seed himself." 

Her heart sank. She knew that no one would approve, and realized she was going to have to hear it from everyone now. She would have to come up with a safe place inside herself to retreat into until that storm passed, if it ever did. They fell into a silence as he sutured the gash Armstrong had given her. After what felt like forever he tied it off and snipped the extra length of thread. Grace had let her thoughts wander as he worked, wondering how long she had been out and if it was morning yet. Was he waiting outside his church, keeping an eye out on the water for her? 

No. That was too painful a rabbit hole to go down right now. 

"We're gonna make sure you haven't been slipped anything funny by that madman, and if there's nothing then we'll find out how much of this Resistance you've compromised by getting into bed with that murderer." 

Grace kept her eyes downcast towards her lap, refusing to give his words weight, finding every mundane detail of the rope around her interesting as he stood around and waited for a reply she wasn't going to give. He got the hint after a few minutes, taking his med kit and trudging up the stairs. After he left an unfamiliar Resistance member came down and took his place, stationing himself by the stairs. They smartly did not trust her to escape despite their best efforts, which soothed her ego despite everything. 

Wishing she had her radio, she kept telling herself that it would be okay...it just had to. They could grill her all they wanted, but she hadn't compromised anything. And she'd learned patience from the best. 

Though she doubted the one she learned it from would act the same way once he found out what happened to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this before, but I'm so happy to be writing this part of the story :) Hope you guys are enjoying it as well!


	31. Woe

"Were you in on it with Nancy?" 

Grace scoffed, rolling her eyes. Hudson stood in front of her, arms crossed with a bitter look on her face. No matter how many questions she asked it was clear she didn't trust Grace's answers.

"No." 

"Did John give me back as a cover for you?" 

"No." 

This had been going on for awhile. Grace learned that she was in the basement of the Spread Eagle. It turns out that 'project' that Mary May had been working on had been converting her basement from a place of storage into makeshift prison cells for the Resistance in Holland Valley. It had been Jerome's idea, and various members had helped it come to fruition. She could hear footsteps from people walking around the bar upstairs if they were heavy enough, sometimes a plate would fall, shattering, and she could hear Casey's subsequent cursing.

After Dutch had stitched her head up it hadn't taken long before Armstrong stomped back down the stairs. Impressively she had single handedly grasped the back of Grace's chair and dragged it back into a cell she hadn't known was behind her. It had made a horrible screeching sound against the floor and she was left without another visitor for the rest of the night. Craning her neck around to view her prison, she found the cell was around the same size as a personal office with nothing but herself and a small wooden table in the corner. The place was cold and dreary like most basements were, with two other unoccupied cells lined up next to hers. 

It hadn't been especially made for her, but Dutch telling everyone about her love life had certainly made sure she was its first inhabitant. 

In the morning he had come back downstairs, bringing a water bottle to her lips which she drank from greedily. He wasn't sticking around, had only left his literal one man island to help Armstrong wrangle her here. She fought the urge to lay into him, make sure he knew what a coward he was for always starting something and then fading into the background. It pissed her off to no end, but she said nothing, content to watch him retreat back up the stairs and skulk off to his bunker. Let him go. 

Upon learning she'd been detained, Hudson had been her first visitor. Understandably just as angry as Armstrong, considering she had only recently been freed from John's bunker. They went around in circles with her questions which led right up to this moment in time.

"Why did you leave me there and go to the Henbane?" 

"You weren't the only one who needed help." How could she look her in the eye and tell her she didn't want to kill John? That just seemed like a low thing to tell the woman he had tortured. 

"Bullshit. John was on his last legs, or at least that's what you led us to believe. Then you skipped."

"I didn't want to deal with John." She worded carefully. When Hudson slammed her hands down on the table next to her she didn't flinch away, resigned to accepting any animosity aimed at her. 

" _I_ didn't want to deal with him, either!" Hudson yelled, shaking her head in disappointment before turning around. She stood tapping her foot as she decided whether or not to stay or walk away. Funny how most choices came down to that. Grace didn't say anything to influence her decision and eventually she went back upstairs and left her alone with her thoughts. What was gnawing at her most was wondering how many of her friends knew. 

Mary May probably did, it was her basement after all. But she hadn't come down to see her. Nothing from Nick, Kim or Sharky, either. If they had been told then they were either deep in denial and refused to believe it, or were too conflicted to want to see her. It was hard not knowing which. All she had was the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and a big empty basement.

Grace shifted in her bindings, her ass had fallen asleep a long time ago and she had to go to the bathroom. They could have at least tied her to something more comfortable, like a bed. The rope hadn't felt that heavy last night, but after being wrapped in it for hours it was starting to feel heavier. It was starting it itch at the skin of her arms, the constraints slowly making her feel claustrophobic - something she had never considered herself. 

Wiggling her fingers impatiently, she nodded her head towards the guard stationed by the stairs, calling out to him tiredly.

"Hey. I need to use the bathroom." 

He blinked. And made no move to do anything. Grace blew air up to move stray strands of hair that fell in front of her eyes. 

"I _said_ I need to use the _bathroom_. You don't gotta leave your post, but you're gonna radio who you need to before I piss and you have to mop it up." She demanded testily, leaning forward as much as she could while staring down the young guard. He shifted nervously as she pressed him, eyes unfocused as he contemplated what the protocol for a captive's bathroom privileges might be. At the end of the day she had still been the Deputy, a formidable asset looked up to by the Resistance. Finally, like a smart guy, he picked up his radio and relayed the situation. 

The impatience simmering through her dulled when Mary May walked down the steps a few minutes later. Physically she looked like she was doing well, but the look in her eyes said that she had no idea how to feel about everything yet. Coming up to the cell door she quickly unlocked it and swung it open without a word. The bar owner looked at her for a long moment, taking in the rope around her and the beat up mess she surely looked to be. Grace was afraid to speak, having no idea what to say. Anything would probably make things worse or bring up more questions than answers. 

Mary May had done so much for her and now, because of what Grace wanted, this was just the beginning of seeing the ones she cared for disappointed in her. She wished she would hug her again like she had the last time they saw one another. 

She didn't look like she knew what to say, either. So she reached behind her and procured handcuffs from her waistband, instructing the guard over to take hold of her shoulders as she was untied and cuffed with her hands in front of her. The removal of the rope felt so good it could have rivaled the happiness bliss brought. Her skin was an irritated red where the rope had dug into the bare skin of her arms. 

"Let's go, Rook." She spoke, finally, putting one hand on her shoulder as she lead her towards the stairs. "Don't make it hard, this is shitty enough as it is." 

Grace remained quiet, not intending to make things difficult. Her friends didn't deserve that. It didn't mean she wouldn't try and find a way out, but she wouldn't do it at their expense. Trodding up the steps, enjoying the use of her muscles after sitting for so long. It almost felt like a strange dream. A few months ago she had led Joseph out of his church in a similar manner. Was this how he'd felt? Probably a little different, since he had been confident he would soon be free again. 

Thankfully there was no one lingering in the bar area to stare as Mary May walked her through it towards the bathroom in the back. Casey didn't look at her when they went through the kitchen, finding whatever he was stirring in his pot incredibly interesting. For a second Grace thought there were no other members guarding the place, but a few furtive glances out the windows showed her multiple cars with armed Resistance milling around. So much for that. Going into the small bathroom with no fuss, she waited for the door to close behind her before stretching her limbs as much as possible, almost groaning in satisfaction with her restored movement. 

Sitting herself down on the toilet, she occupied herself with looking around the space while she did her business. A toilet, sink and door. A decent sized mirror over the sink and a tiny central air vent in the corner near the ceiling. Too tiny to ever fit into. No medicine cabinet, the mirror had no hinges. No toothbrush or razor, just a bar of soap on the sinks edge and toilet paper. They had made sure she didn't have much to work with, then. At least her allies weren't stupid, as unfortunate as that was for her right now. 

Finishing up, she wiped herself and paused before flushing, taking in the signature red that heralded the start of her period. A part of her was relieved, she hadn't gotten it in months - probably due to extreme stress and poor diet - but another part of her was irked she would have to tell Mary May and ask her for a tampon or whatever she had. Flushing, she washed her hands in the sink, waiting until she was finished to finally look up and see what state her face was in. 

It wasn't pretty. But what kind of injuries were? 

Her left cheek was scraped up pretty bad from her fall onto the asphalt, and bruised where Armstrong had struck her. There wasn't too much swelling, at least. Blood was caked in her hair and dried on her forehead and neck. Most of the damage had been to the back of her head, and her ribs were sore from the fall as well. Lingering on how bad she looked at present wasn't the best idea, so she quickly washed her face as well. At least her hands had been cuffed in front of her. 

After the fun process of drying her face and hands with crappy toilet paper she rapped on the door. Mary May cracked it open wearily, looking her and the bathroom over before swinging the door open wider. Grace didn't move, yet, mentally preparing herself to be an adult and just _ask_. For just a second she stood there opening and closing her mouth uselessly until finally sighing and turning her head away to the side. 

"I, uh, I need...a tampon or some shit." She mumbled, fingers fidgeting as she awaited a response. There. She'd said it. And did it somewhat maturely. Surely she would look back on this when everything was over and laugh at the awkwardness of it all in the middle of such a serious predicament. Mary May sighed, likely weighing the odds in her head about what escape scheme could involve a tampon, before beckoning her back further into the bathroom and closing the door again. The lock clicked audibly followed by the sound of her footsteps fading away down the hall. They didn't put this awkward stuff in the action movies, and for a good reason. 

A couple minutes later everything was taken care of and Grace was walked back down to the basement. Her steps slowed as they approached the open cell door, looking apprehensively at the wooden chair and rope piled around it on the ground. Remembering the discomfort that came with being wrapped in rope, she pulse sped up at the thought of having to sit for another indeterminable amount of time again. Before she could cross into confinement again her cuffed hands shot out and grasped the metal frame of the cell door. 

"Wait-- please." 

Mary May sighed, pressing harder into her shoulder to get her to move forward the last foot or so. 

"Just, just not the rope, okay? It burns. It's heavy. I won't do anything, please." She protested quickly, not sure how much time she would have to plead. Grace stood gripping the cold metal, tense as she awaited an answer. Mary May was quiet behind her before pushing her once more inside. Her heart sank. Resigning herself to it, her shoulders slumped and she let herself stumble into the cell. Obediently she sat down, hands resting in her lap as she waited to be tied up like a hog again. Following in after her, Mary Mary picked up one end of the rope, reeling it between her elbow and hand to roll up the length of it. Then, with one last pitying glance, she walked out and locked the door behind her. 

Grace sat dumbfounded for a moment before a surge of relief relaxed her features. Small mercies. She called a ' _thank you_ ' out after her when she left and walked back upstairs. Armstrong probably wouldn't be happy, but fuck her. Standing up, she walked the perimeter of her cell. Handcuffs she could handle. This little freedom felt like a huge leap in treatment, and at least she knew that her friend wasn't willing to treat her like an animal. 

\----- 

One theory that her allies had, apparently, was that she had been dosed by the cult. Presumably with Bliss as some form of brainwashing. Whether it had gotten into her food or her drinking water, they were hoping that was the reason she had been at their compound. So a little later in the day they had her guard standby to make sure she didn't move as a doctor came and took a sample of her blood. Grace always hated needles or anything else that slid right under someone's skin. That included splinters - she would rather get shot than get a splinter. 

Looking away as the needle came close, Grace distracted herself by thinking of different ways this could all end. She definitely wasn't about to beat up her friends to free herself, and even if she did there were armed members waiting outside. Right now she had no MacGyver skills that could get her out of here involving a chair and a table. With her new ability to move she had checked herself over and found that her knife had been confiscated. Her radio was probably still laying in the road somewhere outside Fall's End. She briefly considered seducing the guard, but the thought was so far fetched and absurd that it almost made her chuckle. Maybe they would keep her here until the whole civil war was over, to make sure she didn't tell the cult anything. 

Just the thought of Eden's Gate, no, of _Joseph_ being taken down… They would want to kill him. And if they kept her here then she would never get to say goodbye or see him again. 

"I didn't hurt ya that much, did I?" The doctor joked dryly, holding a cotton ball over where he had stuck her. She blinked back into the moment, shooting him a confused look before realizing a tear or two had trailed down her cheeks. Lifting her free arm she wiped them away and shook her head. She hadn't even felt herself beginning to cry, or noticed him taking the needle out. There would be no way that Joseph would die just because she was stuck down here. 

After the doctor had left she was pacing around, wondering what the chances were that he thought she had changed her mind and abandoned him, or if he'd figured out what happened to her yet. Grace didn't know what time it was, guessing it was sometime after midday and she had been taken just last night. She hated the thought of Joseph thinking she gave up on him, but was terrified of what would happen if he put two and two together. Knowing him he had probably tried her on different frequencies. Breaking her from her thoughts was the sound of one set of heavy footsteps traversing the length of the bar, followed by voices growing louder above her. 

She stopped pacing and strained to decipher what was being said, but besides the volume their voices were muffled and hard to understand. One female, one male. No one was attacking, she would have definitely heard the gunfire. They were probably arguing over what to do with her. The voices continued for awhile, and Grace moved her chair next to the small table in the corner, sitting down and resting her head on it as she grew tired. 

If they would just give her a pillow she could sleep this whole thing through. Or maybe they had taken more blood than they had to and that's why she was sleepy. Even her guard looked bored after so many hours, he would probably get relieved soon by someone else. Just as her eyes were drifting closed footsteps were stomping down the stairs, making her sniff and jerk her head up as she was roused from near sleep. 

Nick came into view, holding a tray of food and looking as angry as the day they had met. She had walked right into a gunfight with him against cultists and Kim had been hidden away in their house. Shortly after, he had told her that John Seed stole his plane and it needed to be repossessed. Ever since she'd returned it to him they had been good friends. Now, standing outside of her cell, she wanted to shrink away and disappear. No one deserved this, not her being trapped and not her friends having to be suspicious of her. A prideful part of her felt degraded, even though her reputation should be the last thing on her mind.

"Dep, I… I don't know what the hell is goin' on. Armstrong, she says you've been with Joseph Seed." 

Grace frowned as he spoke, but her eyes locked on to the sandwich and dixie cup of something to drink he had brought her. And was that a banana? Smartly nothing that required cutlery. Her stomach growled loudly, making Nick pause and start to slide the tray through the meal tray slot. She stood up and walked over, noting that the angry look on his face had turned into indecision and awkwardness. She thanked him and took the tray back to her table, taking an eager bite into the sandwich. 

"They told me you hadn't eaten yet. We may have a jail here now but that don' mean we're gonna starve anyone." 

Grace thanked him between mouthfuls, forgetting briefly what a sight she must make all beat up behind bars. Nick sighed and shook his head. 

"I told her the godmother of my daughter wouldn't be no peggie. That you could never be a peggie. But she's never seemed like someone who lost their marbles to me. So here I am. I want your side, I wanna know what the hell is goin' on." 

He let her finish without further interruption, but Grace finished quickly and downed the iced tea that had been in the little dixie cup. She could probably down an entire gallon of it, but she would ask for more afterwards. Where the hell did she even start?

"I… I ran into him a while ago, in the Henbane. Total accident. But he didn't attack and so neither did I. We started talking on the radio here and there, a truce of sorts." 

Did she want to go into her feelings with Nick? Was it a smart move to tell her captors the extent of her feelings? It would probably be deduced anyways without her needing to go into detail, but she hadn't even spelled it out for herself yet. Already he looked shocked. 

"Don't you know how stupid dangerous it is to be talkin' to a damn _cult_ leader, Dep?" He asked, exasperated, eyes desperately searching hers for understanding. "What if he wanted to lower your guard and then take you? It's stranger danger 1-0-1!" 

"He always kept his word. No fighting, just conversation. I think he was more curious than anything." She mused, fiddling with her thumbs while she sat, contemplating if she should save the banana for later or not.

Nick was looking up at the ceiling with his hands on his hips, probably wondering how much shit she had gotten herself into after she left the Valley. 

"What else? Armstrong wouldn't put you here just for talkin' to that wacko." 

"...I never told him anything about the Resistance, Nick." 

"Deputy." 

"I would _never_ do anything to hurt my friends. You know that." 

"Just tell me straight! None of this makes a lick of sense, you have to throw me a damn bone!" 

She closed her eyes, knowing that ripping that band aid off quickly was better than a slow, painful peel. 

"I want to stop fighting. I told Dutch I was leaving the Resistance. That I don't want to kill people anymore. I wanted…" Grace swallowed, taking a second before continuing, "I want to be with him. Not as a member of his cult. Just...be...with him." 

Grace didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to look at the disbelief she knew was on his face. A long painful silence stretched on, tension in the air pulling tighter with every second. 

"...That's the craziest shit I've ever heard. You wanna be with that psycho? You know his brother peeled the skin off my chest and tried to take my family into his bunker, right? You've seen what they did to this county! How can you say something so crazy?" 

"I'm not crazy." She whispered, remembering his arms around her. Remembering the peace she found there. The vision of the world burning. The feel of a trigger pulled beneath her finger, of blood staining her clothes. No. Not crazy. 

"Yeah? Cuz you're my friend, Dep, but you sound bat shit nuts. I don't know what he said or promised you, but you can't trust the Seeds." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Did he ever drug you?" 

"No." 

Finally mustering up the courage to open her eyes, she took in the disappointment and disillusionment on his face. She wanted to ask about Kim, about her goddaughter, and see how they were doing. But she knew she couldn't, that he would be conflicted about answering and that would hurt too much. Nick hadn't mentioned anything about the pile of baby goods she had seen stuffed in the corner of their living room. At least they'd had their things returned. 

"I don't know what to say to you right now." He said, clearly at a loss. She just nodded.

"It's okay. I wouldn't either." 

He looked dubiously at her calm demeanor, as if noticing a change in her for the first time that he hadn't seen before. She didn't know how to feel about it. They didn't really talk after that, Nick simply telling her that Sharky was on his way and would be there sometime tomorrow, so she should probably think more clearly about how she would explain things to him. 

After he left she lay her head back down on the hard wood of the table, closing her eyes, for once all too happy to not be conscious anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for every comment <3


	32. Harrow

By the time the next day came Grace had memorized most of the tiny cracks in the cement wall at the back of her cage. She sat with her chair against it, tilting her head back to look at the expanse of it. If she stared long enough then eventually they all made shapes. Some cracks closest to her looked like a dog, and some more towards the center looked like rabbits. It was like cloud watching for prisoners. 

As predicted her guard had changed the day before, but she still didn't recognize the fresh young face standing nervously by the staircase. Poor kid, at least if he was down here watching her then he wasn't out getting himself shot. 

The worst thing about her captivity was that the passage of time was a mystery to her. Was it morning? Predawn? Almost noon? A clock would have been a mercy to her curious mind, even if she knew she'd just end up staring at it. The fluorescent lights were a pain on her eyes because of the shitty, never ending headache that came with having a head injury. Her wrists were still cuffed, but no way was she going to complain when it was a million times better than being tied to the chair with rope. Oddly she hadn't seen much of Armstrong. After everything she put Grace through one would think she would be more involved with her jailed Deputy. 

Then, as if summoned by some metaphysical force, she heard the basement door creaking open and footsteps descending the stairs. Straightening in her seat, Grace faced forward to watch as Armstrong came down the stairs and strode towards her. She looked impassive, but it wasn't hard to tell there was anger simmering just beneath the surface. Having such enmity aimed at her, though, hadn't taken long to get used to. 

"Deputy." 

"Howdy." 

"Getting comfortable in there?"

"I have mastered which way to sleep without getting a crick in my neck. After you lay your head on the table it's all about the shoulders." 

Armstrong ignored her teasing, coming close and reaching out a hand to grasp one of the cell bars. She was more on edge than the last time Grace had seen her.

"No one wants you in here, Dep."

Grace snorted. "Clearly." 

"-But you can't expect us to let you go when you've been in bed with the Seeds." 

"Seed. Singular." 

"Glad to see you are still chipper enough to joke around." 

"Do I look like I'm at Disneyland?" 

Grace was all too familiar with using humor as a defense mechanism, but she couldn't let Armstrong go around thinking she had bedded all three of the Seed brothers. Then again maybe she had been taking her words too literally. At the next opportunity she should get her head checked for permanent damage. Keeping her features schooled into a mask of indifference, she leaned forward in her chair and rested her elbows on her knees. She had been trying not to stay in one position too long, her cramps hard to ignore when there was nothing to occupy herself with. 

"The results of your blood test came back, no Bliss. No drugs." 

"I told you that already." 

"So you have been willingly talking with the enemy, without coercion. It would be a good show of faith to tell the Resistance what you know about their operations." 

She scoffed, shaking her head. Even if she was willing to say what she had seen and learned about what the Project was up to, it was doubtful they would let her free on that alone. And if she told them anything, Joseph _or_ Armstrong, and anyone got killed because of spilled intel? She would never forgive herself. So what exactly would it take to exonerate her? Nothing would. Because she wanted to be with Joseph, and no sane member of the Resistance would support that. The moment they had learned everything was the moment she couldn't be a part of their ranks anymore, at least not in the same way. 

That meant the best course of action would be to escape, the only one that could grant her freedom was herself - it was her responsibility. Anytime she got a bathroom break she kept an eye out for openings, who was around the bar and what could she glean from looking briefly out the windows. It was no use befriending the guard, they were tight lipped and eager to please Armstrong. If she wanted to get out of here then she would have to come up with something, because she would go stir crazy if she had to stay in here for another three days. Or was it four? So hard to keep count down here. 

"I said that I didn't discuss that stuff with him. I have nothing for you." 

"Liar!" Armstrong snapped, grip tightening on the bar. Grace was about to stand up, defend herself face to face with the sniper, when the basement door banged open and Sharky clambered down the stairs. He nearly tripped down the last few before smoothly recovering. Her eyes strayed from her interrogator to one of her best pals, a genuine smile appearing on her face as she stood up at the sight of him. 

"Dep! I heard what happened and zoomed my ass on down here." He said breathlessly, probably having driven a long way to get here as soon as he could. Her heart warmed as she watched him compose himself and straighten out the hem of his hoodie. 

"Thank you, Sharky. I'm… I'm glad you came." 

"You got some nerve lockin' the Po Po up! You don't put cuffs on a _cop_ , man, it puts off the world order!" He flailed to Armstrong, frustration twitching at his eyebrows. He didn't have his weapons on him like usual, were all of her friends required to leave their weapons at the door if they came to see her? Nick and Hudson hadn't had any defense on them, either. It was astounding that they thought she would hurt them. She understood their need for precautions, but Dutch and Armstrong choosing such a shady, violent way of dealing with things had been wrong. 

The only other person to drug her was Faith. Which brought Grace's point full circle, how was one side better than the other? At least she knew most of the Resistance didn't approve of the methods taken to get her here. And at least Joseph had taken measures to drastically lessen the use of Bliss. More compromises like that would lead this county to peace again, if the end of the world held off for it. 

"I didn't make her sleep with the enemy."

"And no one made you an Dutch kidnap her and nearly bash her brains in! You two didn't even run it by anyone else." He retorted. Armstrong released the bar and stepped back, throwing Sharky a warning glance. 

"I'll be back later, and you will answer me." She warned Grace with a pointed finger, glancing between the two of them before stalking off to torment someone else. Once the door had closed behind her they finally relaxed, Grace walking up to the bars and raising a hand meekly at him in awkward greeting. For once, though, he skipped the small talk.

"Dep, I know we're best pals an all, but I was talkin' with Nick and Mary May. I just don't know man, everyone here is my friend but all of a sudden I hear you're dressin' like a peggie and bangin' Joseph Seed - an it's like my mind is like a box of Christmas lights." 

"Enlightened?"

"Tangled." 

Oh. As much as a goofball Sharky was, he was deep and thoughtful underneath. It would be a mistake for anyone to take him at face value. Smart, too. He could make a flamethrower out of most household products with nothing but his wits and duct tape. She was honored to be his friend, and through her actions she had ended up causing him pain. She knew that even he couldn't solve this mess for her.

"I don't know what to say, Sharky. We just started talking, and it felt different. I'm not a part of their cult, but I couldn't ignore him. And he helped me pull myself up when all the killin' was getting to me and I nearly lost myself." 

"You coulda talked to _me_ , Dep! Or anyone in the Resistance! He ain't the only person out there with awesome listening skills." 

"I told Dutch and wound up here. So it didn't really go that well." 

"So that's it? You- you really wanna leave us and go vanish into the sunset with Big Daddy Top-Knot? Are you for real?" 

"I would never abandon you guys! But I'm not the one making me choose!" 

He took a few steps back from the cell, each one feeling like a punch to her gut. 

"If you guys could just believe I'm not playing for any side. That I just found myself in lo--" Grace paused, truth halting on her tongue for only a second or two before she closed her eyes and gave herself over to it. "--in love with someone I shouldn't be. With Joseph." 

He stiffened, brows creasing as he chewed over her words. Bumping nasties was something he could relate to, hell he had made plenty of jokes about how she should bang John or about how all the Seeds seemed to have a hard on where she was concerned. Always joking, nothing about love or intimacy. Grace swallowed, opening her eyes as she waited patiently for him to respond. She hadn't said it aloud to anyone until now, not even to herself. 

"I thought you were the good people cop, Dep. You're my best bud." Sharky said softly. It was his look of dejection, his hurt tone that made her knees buckle. She didn't fight it, letting herself fall to the ground. It probably hurt her kneecaps, but she didn't feel it. Grace couldn't control who she loved and now it was hurting everyone around her just like she had wanted to avoid. Was being happy and saving herself worth more than not hurting them? She opened her mouth to speak several times, not being able to compose herself as her throat tightened. If she cried now then he might look at her like she was a madly desperate woman. 

"I...I just wanted to help. That's all...just…" Grace tried saving lives. Had changed her ways quickly after having that week of respite in McCoy's cabin. It was one of the best decisions she had made, ending up giving herself time to reflect on everything she had done. Joseph had encouraged her to find a different path, had never asked her to choose a faction. Had just wanted her at his side, even if she still helped her friends. 

Sharky stared at her for a long moment, neither saying anything after that. Both wishing they could rewind things so that bars weren't between them. He fidgeted for a minute before looking down at his feet, shaking his head and running his hand over his beard as his mind tried to work through it all. 

"I'm sorry, Dep. It's just... Bein' Joseph Seed's wifey is some weird shit." Like Nick had, he turned and retreated from the basement. Couldn't look at his friend locked up for reasons she couldn't wholly deny. Grace mentally willed him to come back, to understand, to free her, but in the end she was left alone again. Resting her forehead against the bars, she willed herself to stay strong. Chanted it like a mantra in her head until there was no room for other thoughts. 

\-----

Armstrong came back down some time after Sharky had left. Grace hadn't moved, still on the ground by the door to her cell. She pulled her head from the cold bars, rubbing at the red marks they had left on her forehead. She was way beyond caring about her looks the last few days.

"So you gonna tell me what Eden's Gate has been up to? What you learned?" 

"My answer hasn't changed. I have nothing to share, just like I shared nothing with him about the Resistance." 

"So you had no idea about John's push back?" She asked sarcastically, arms folded in front of her chest. 

"John's what?"

"Surely you heard shit about that sick bastard making a big push to get his outposts back." 

"I thought he already had been since before I came back." She answered wearily. 

"So you didn't hear a word about US Auto? About Gardenview?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

Armstrong marched up to her cell door and pulled out a key, unlocking it and swinging it open. Grace stayed on the floor, easing off of her knees and sitting back on her ass. She had to tilt her head back, a painful movement that pulled at her stitches, just to look up at her. Had she always been this tall?

"That fucker ambushed those outposts, he got them back. He scrounged up a damn army from the bunker you never destroyed and now we've lost ground."

Grace did nothing but lower her head and rub at her neck. She hadn't heard word of anything like a massive assault. There wasn't any information to give her. Not that she would believe her. 

"Little Johnny's got a fire up his ass, and the only thing that's changed is we took away the Deputy." 

Her mind was sorting through the possibilities. John wouldn't care or notice she was missing, especially if it had only been a few days. He hadn't taken to radioing her up and annoying her since the day she left his bunker. Armstrong stepped further into the cell, her boots appearing by Grace's side. She wished she'd gotten the chance to throw up on them the other night, just to see the disgusted look on her face. 

"So who's to say if you were in bed with more than one Seed? Don't give me that bullshit about not knowing anything." 

No, that line of thinking wasn't right. Not that Grace took the bait from Armstrong's goading, the thought of her being in cahoots with John was just too weird. But... John _would_ get up in arms for someone else. Someone else who he did care about and wanted to make happy. It was someone who would actually notice something amiss from her absence. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she mulled things over, bouncing her knee subconsciously. 

Yeah. John would definitely scour outposts with a large force to find her if that was what his older brother wanted. 

"I can't believe you wanna be with those psychos. They're _killers_ , Deputy." 

She was too lost in thoughts of Joseph, now, to have the patience to care about Armstrong's incessant questioning. It could be a coincidence, John just getting fed up over not getting his properties back and deciding on an all out approach. Taking US Auto made the most sense, it was closest to his bunker. But Gardenview, that was the last outpost she had told Joseph she'd been to. Maybe she was connecting nonsensical dots because she was hopeful. Either way, when she finally replied to Armstrong it was in a measured tone, devoid of her usual levity and stubbornness. 

"Is that a joke? This war has made murderers of all of us. It doesn't matter who started it anymore, because no one is ending it. Eden's Gate kills, the Resistance kills back. There isn't one person in this county who doesn't have blood on their hands. Even me." She allowed herself a moment of self pity, "...Especially me." 

There wasn't an immediate reply so she grunted and stood up, making to move past the sniper to the chair further in. "So I don't think sides matter anymore." 

Armstrong snarled at that, stopping her from walking past by grabbing her shoulder. Rearing back, Grace barely had time to register the sight of her gloved fist coming at her, punching her square in the face. Her head snapped back, a short yelp of surprise escaping her as she stumbled away. Her nose hadn't quite broken, but felt like it had anyways. Pain blossomed across her face starting from her nose, moving through to her cheeks and radiating outward. Shit, was this what it felt like when she'd done this to others? Her stealth kill MO would be to hit em' in the neck and then punch them in the face. Now she felt like more of an asshole, even if she was the one that just got assaulted again. The feeling was like burning and stinging at the same time, similar to how the gash on her head had felt before she got stitches. 

Grace screwed her eyes shut and held a hand over her nose to gently feel at the cartilage there, double checking nothing had broken. Blood dribbled over her lips and down her chin as she controlled her breathing while adjusting to the new injury. The back of her mind registered the sound of the basement door opening, of multiple footsteps coming down the stairs. 

"In times like this sides are the _only_ thing that matters!" Armstrong yelled, voice reverberating off the walls of the basement. Grace took her hand away to look at the bright red blood on her hand, sadness creeping into her eyes. She shivered at the warm, wet feeling of it as it dripped from her chin down onto her shirt. Nick and Sharky had rushed downstairs, running straight for the cell and grabbing Armstrong. They were yelling, scolding as they dragged her angry friend from the cell. Hopefully they wouldn't let her be in charge of her captivity anymore. At least they were prepared to defend her from Armstrong's anger, it made her happy to know that her captor's actions were not approved of. 

Calling for antiseptic and bandages as Sharky accompanied Armstrong out of the basement, Nick cursed quietly, speaking with the guard near the stairs before coming over to her where she stood in the cell. He tilted her head up and inspected her nose, but she had already shoved the pain away. Mostly everything hurt now, so one more scuffle didn't make much of a difference. 

"See?" She whispered with a shrug, "Peggie blood, Resistance blood. All the same." 

His hands left her face, giving her an exasperated look before stepping out and locking the cell once more. Promising he would be back with a med kit, Grace let hot tears gather and fall as she stood alone again. In this moment she could strongly feel how much she wanted to see Joseph. To be near him and hear his soothing voice. To ask his advice. She never would have imagined that she'd feel safer with him than her own friends, but that's where things were at right now. How could she have mistaken this feeling for anything but love? He had said it to her so many times and she had never said it back, she was truly the lowest of the low. 

It took being taken prisoner by her friends, having her freedom stripped away and the crap beat out of her, to make it crystal clear how she felt. How she wanted to share everything with him. And now she might not even get the chance to _tell_ him. That thought alone had her blood boiling despite her normally successful efforts to stay calm. 

If she dwelled on that particular pain it would destroy her, so instead she sharpened her anger to a cutting edge. The blood was already drying on her face as Grace found herself clenching the bars of her cell simply to exert her muscles over, needing to work off steam. Bitterly she tilted her head to the side until she heard a satisfying crack of her neck, despite the protests of her wounds. Joseph could end up right about everything, and the Collapse would come because people kept screwing things up royally.

But even if it turned out the Collapse never came, she would stand at his side still. 

Maybe everyone just needed a fucking time _out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wrath is coming bwuahahaha >3  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	33. Beset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is fun to write :3

There was always a silver lining if you looked hard enough. 

Sometimes it was hard to find, not able to be seen until after time had passed from whatever storm did you in. Other times it was easy to see - something bright glimmering amidst the dark clouds. Grace could see it now as she sat on a stool by the bar, the silver lining to getting the daylights knocked out of her. Armstrong and herself weren't allowed in the same room alone together anymore, which was fine by her. Now that the harshest of her critics had left in an angry huff it had been easier for the other members to be more reasonable. 

Grace didn't blame them. Armstrong was a force to be reckoned with. 

That night Mary May had escorted her to another bathroom trip, and while she was washing the blood off her face (again) she could hear her friends debating in the bar area just past the kitchen. It wasn't like the angry, begrudging shouts that had accompanied trying to reason with Armstrong, it was concerned mutterings and calm planning. She let the cold water run over her face, the sight of her own blood swirling down the drain not as disturbing when it belonged to her and not someone she'd killed. Most of her face was black and blue now, while the cuts on her cheek at least had started to scab over already. 

She was thinner than she remembered. The mirror only gave her a view from her ribs up, but her arms looked skinnier than before. It was her fault, though. Before her captivity she had only eaten when the growling of her stomach had become too loud to ignore as she went about her days. Was Joseph remembering to eat? What was he doing right now? The longer they remained separated the more she let him occupy her thoughts. After she was done she'd been escorted back and spent the rest of the night in that dreary basement again. 

In the morning she had woken up to Nick and Sharky standing in front of her cell, keys hanging from the former's hand. Her friends had decided that it wasn't good for morale, or their blood pressure, to have the Deputy locked up like she had been. They asked her if she would really go to Joseph if they let her go. Grace wasn't inclined to lie, though it would have made everything much easier, so she told them yes. That is how, under the condition that she keep the handcuffs on, and she understood that any attempt to leave would mean all of their patrols outside would try and stop her, they let her come upstairs. 

She missed feeling normal, had hated the constant buzzing of the lights and emptiness of that basement. Sitting at the bar, she ran a hand over the polished wood of it and let the jukebox in the corner chase away memories of her time downstairs. Her stitches had been looked over and cleaned, Nick was talking to Kim on the phone in the kitchen, and Mary May was making sure everything was stocked behind the counter. Her captive conditions had improved drastically. 

Normalcy. Grace didn't realize she'd taken it for granted. 

It was a cloudy day outside, from what she could see through the windows at least. The members walking around the main street seemed on edge. There were fewer cars outside than she was used to seeing, Armstrong had taken a couple of fighters out to try and fortify the remaining outposts they still had a hold of. Something was coming, she could feel it in her bones. It felt like the calm before the storm, but she seemed to be the only one that sensed it. Everyone around her was carrying on like it was any other day. 

"Here. Try not to look so miserable, Dep." Mary May mumbled, studiously avoiding looking at the cuffs on her wrist as she placed a beer down in front of her. Grace blinked down at it, the smell of the alcohol filling her nostrils and making her want to grimace. She hated beer. But she smiled softly at the fragile peace offering and nodded to her, grasping the cold glass in her hand. 

"Thanks Mary May." 

Nick hung up the phone, looking tired as he rolled his shoulders and took a seat a few stools away from her. She wished this would all be over with soon, at least so he would feel comfortable enough to leave Fall's End and be home with his family. Bringing the beer to her lips, she gingerly took a few gulps of the free drink she'd been given. All beers tasted the same to her, and this one was no exception. It left a stale aftertaste in her mouth, but she was nothing if not polite. 

"I'm getting updates from Kim and Jerome. Shit's gettin' nasty out there." 

"Are you supposed to let me hear Resistance information?" She drawled bitterly before she could think to stop herself. Her hand tensed on her glass, waiting for a strike that wouldn't come. He didn't do anything more than take off his cap and run a hand through his hair with a sigh. 

"You're not the enemy, Deputy. Somehow you've managed to get sucked in by them, though." 

They were pretty words, but…

"If you don't care if I hear, then that means you aren't planning on letting me go." 

A guilty look crossed his face as he put his cap back on. His fingers drummed against the bar top. Mary May wasn't looking at her. She didn't know what was worse, open hostility or awkward avoidance. 

"Just--give us time to try and undo whatever mess he weaved in your head, okay?" 

She would be more angry at his words if he didn't look so genuinely concerned for her. It should warm her heart that her friends were willing to work her through this - if it was something she wanted to work through. Being with Joseph wasn't negotiable, wasn't a mistake or something she had been talked into like an ignorant child. Grace looked away and traced the rim of her glass with a finger. They really thought she had been brainwashed. If she stood up and started preaching bible verses they would probably just look at her sadly, _'poor Grace let the cult get into her head'_. 

Before her thoughts could get too murky there was a familiar stomp of boots coming through the bar doors. Sharky laid his flamethrower down by the entrance and wiped some sweat off of his forehead as he made his way over to them. The weapon seemed to have more duct tape than she remembered since last she saw it - the day they had destroyed Joseph's statue. It made Grace happy to see he could still be so cheerful - he probably saw silver linings more clearly than she could. 

"Dang man, I tell you it's hard being a gangster." Some things never changed, even in strained situations. He sat himself down next to her and looked at Mary May imploringly. "Hey can I have a beer, pretty please? I've been hustlin' all day. I'm pretty good but even a warrior needs some liquid sustenance, feel me?" 

Mary May shot him an unimpressed look, rolling her eyes before heading back into the kitchen. Sharky sat looking dejected for all of ten seconds before Grace couldn't take it anymore and slid him her beer. She hadn't wanted it anyways. His face lit up and he took hold of the glass, nudging her side gently with an elbow. Considerate of her wounds. 

"Oh man, there's still some hope for the Deputy, yet!" He boasted, her eyes training on the disappearing beer as he brought to glass to his lips and began chugging it at an impressive pace. At heart he was a party boy, and the beer was gone in seconds. Sharky lowered the empty glass and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Her eyes caught Nick's on his other side, both of them sharing an amused look. 

"Wait, wait, I was so lager-deprived I forgot I came here to tell y'all something. Daddy Top Knot left his compound." 

Grace winced at the nickname. It was just...so wrong. She wondered what he would think to know his new nickname, then berated herself for constantly thinking of him. But she contemplated Sharky's intel for a bit, shrugging in her confusion. 

"And?" 

" _And_ he, like, never leaves unless he's has some serious biznu to attend."

"How do we know this?" Nick spoke up, leaning an elbow on the bar. 

"Some fellas said they saw a convoy leave his island, recognized those stupid glasses a mile away. Not literally, they were like, five hundred feet away." 

"What way was he headed?" Nick asked next, rightly worried about whether his family was in danger or not. 

"Dunno. Some peggies stumbled on them and by the time the scuffle was over the trucks were gone." 

Interesting. He was right, Joseph hardly ever left his compound. That was part of the reason she had been so shocked to see him all those nights ago in the Henbane. She'd heard that sometimes he would attend some of John's important confessions, or Jacob's initiations, but he mostly left the regions up to his family. This may not have been the time for it, but her heart did a flip flop as she thought about how much he had left just to see her since they began talking. 

For awhile they talked among themselves, Grace crossing her arms in front of her on the bar and resting her chin atop them. Too many guards, still, outside. And her friends were right here. Maybe she could wander into the kitchen for some food and peek out back, there could be an opening to escape through the backyard. She was contemplating if she would be allowed to go up to her old room when the sound of tires braking against the road caught all of their attention. Wearily they all looked behind at the doors and watched Armstrong slam her truck door and fast walk into the bar. 

She halted a few steps inside, looking in disbelief at the sight of Grace out of her cell and chilling at the bar. Grace ignored the glare she was shooting her way and opted for brevity, giving her a short wave that only served to make her cheeks redden with anger. 

"What you scurryin' so fast for?" Sharky asked, either oblivious to the tension between the two or smartly trying to slice through it with his candor.

Her eyes darted to him, then Nick, before she spoke. 

"They took Copperhead while I was checkin' out Greenbush. I made sure everyone was prepared for any assault before I came back here." Taking in the surprised looks on their faces, Armstrong sighed. "Has no one been listening to the radio?" 

Nick slid off his stool and rounded the bar, fiddling with the radio behind it, cursing as it sparked and fizzled after emitting some white noise. He looked downright sheepish as he looked between Armstrong and the faulty radio, mumbling something about getting it fixed. While he fiddled with it Grace visualized a map of Holland Valley in her head. With Copperhead, US Auto, Seed Ranch and Gardenview gone there were only three outposts left under Resistance control: Greenbush Fertilizer Co., Sunrise Farm, and Kellett's. Which she just now remembered she'd driven through the fencing of while rushing Kim to the clinic. Oops. 

There was a bad feeling nagging in the back of her mind as she absentmindedly watched Sharky and Nick try and fix the radio. It was telling her that John had been taking care of the outposts farthest away from town first, methodically searching for her there before closing in. That meant eventually this place wouldn't be safe anymore. The Baptist had always had the ability to take Fall's End, but John liked to play games, treating the people here to a game of cat and mouse instead of ending the fun too soon. But Grace knew this time would be different, he wouldn't stop at just getting his properties back. And where had Joseph gone to? 

"What happened to my radio?" Grace asked, leveling a withering look at Armstrong. She stayed silent and reflected the same look back at her. This kind of attitude was exactly what she thought she had left behind in high school. Crossing her arms, the stubborn woman refused to answer her question. 

Nick looked up from the radio and snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up. 

"Oh yeah! I think we have that around somewhere." 

"Nick." Armstrong warned, but he waved her off and left Sharky to handle the radio. He went into the kitchen and returned with what was undoubtedly Grace's radio. It was banged up pretty bad, but the familiar tape she had used in the past to patch it up still stuck to it. She remembered seeing it laying on the ground in front of her as blood ran down her neck, her consciousness fading. She shuddered at the memory. 

Sitting back on his stool, he turned it over in his hands, making sure that it still had a charge after turning it on. For a moment her heart leapt into her throat, had she left it on frequency thirty three? Her eyes locked onto it as Nick looked it over, silently praying to whatever higher power that nothing was revealed. Whether her prayers were answered or by a stroke of luck, Nick instantly starting to fiddle with the tuner - erasing her worries. Everyone seemed relieved that it was still in working order, passing through random static channels until settling upon the Resistance's for an update. 

"-ny Resistance members alive on this frequency? _Helloo_?" 

All four of them jumped in surprise as John's voice immediately emitted from her radio. Grace's mouth dropped open, everyone glancing at each other in surprise. No one quite knew whether or not they should answer him. His voice came through again a minute later, filled with impatience. 

"Come now. I know there are plenty of you pathetic reprobate's still crawling around this county." 

Excluding Grace, the three Resistance members all shrugged and mouthed their confusion at one another. In their shock, she noted, they had forgotten that the individual on the other line could not hear unless the button was pressed. It was amusing to watch but her shoulders still tensed, hearing directly from a Seed never spelled anything good. Unless they were contacting her - that, so far, had worked out. 

"You should answer." She spoke up, stopping their frantic pantomiming. 

"Why should we give him our time?" Armstrong retorted.

"Because he won't stop until someone finally does." As if on cue her radio came to life in Nick's hand again. 

"Do you smell something burning? Oh, wait. That must be on my end. You know how fertilizer can be." 

Fertilizer? Armstrong had just checked on Greenbush less than an hour ago and in the time it had taken her to drive back here and talk to them it had been reclaimed. Her heart sank, the dots quickly connecting in her mind as Armstrong kicked a chair in frustration. It must be a hard blow to be dealt, having an outpost taken so soon after making sure it was secure. Nick clenched his hand tighter around the radio before pressing the side button and responding. 

"What do you want, Seed?" 

"Rye, is that you? I hear congratulations are in order!" 

"Answer the damn question!" He spat back. John always knew just what buttons to push with him, always knew that mentioning his family would get him riled. 

"That's alright, I do hate small talk. You see, I came here to this cesspool looking for someone but I've just had no luck." Even though he was being serious he still had that teasing tone that coated all of his antagonizing. It confirmed, however, that he was looking for her and not just fighting back against the growing Resistance.

"You sure got a fire lit under your ass, Johnny boy. Killing entire outposts just looking for someone?" Nick was looking at her as he spoke, predictably having figured it out as well. Of course having Eden's Gate fight to get her back probably just made for more damning evidence for her being one of them. 

"Don't act like your hands are clean, Rye. I'm just taking back what was stolen from me. Which brings me to my point. There's a little lamb out there that seems to have gone missing." 

Grace leaned back and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing at how greasy it felt from lack of a proper shower. A vain part of her that she hadn't quite rid herself of hoped she wouldn't be found until her face didn't look like a purple/blue mess. 

"And you're annoying us about it, why?" 

"Because I will be coming for them. I just have two more things to take care of, and thought I would give you a courtesy call. I am nothing if not a polite neighbor." 

"Fuck you." 

"Now, now. Does the little lamb happen to be there now? You haven't done anything... _unsavory_ , have you? I know you Resistance folk can be so cruel. We would be most displeased." He sounded snide as ever, but there was a undercurrent of warning as he probed for more information. 

Meanwhile she could practically feel everyone's conscious effort to not stare at her face. Grace couldn't tell what warmth was from her bruising and what was her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Armstrong snarled and put her hand over Nick's, yanking the radio towards herself as she replied.

"You think we give a _shit_ what pleases your fucked up family?" 

A low rumble of laughter followed, making Armstrong's nostrils flare.

"I'll be seeing you soon. Tell the lamb not to worry. We'll come for her." 

"Like hell." Sharky said indignantly, taking the radio from Nick and switching it off, effectively ending the dialogue. They all sat in silence, trying to come up with what his words meant. Most obviously that he had two more outposts to take before he turned his attention on to Fall's End. At the rate he had been tearing through the county, though, that didn't leave them with much time. Would it be worth it to try and salvage those last two, or should they just evacuate? He had a large force but how many people were they looking at, exactly? There was a lot to consider in the short time they had to prepare. 

"Wonder how he knows you're here." Armstrong said testily, breaking the silence first and throwing her a look that nearly snapped something dark inside of her. 

Recognizing the familiar path this conversation was about to take, Grace stood up from her stool and faced Armstrong. No more of this not defending herself shit, and she let that show on her face. If Joseph were here he would tell her to care about herself more. There was a line between not causing unnecessary harm and reasonable self preservation.

"I've been here this _whole_ time." Grace snapped indignantly. If she wanted to test her then a few more nights in that cell would be worth giving her a taste of her own medicine. Armstrong seemed to consider the look in her eyes, what wrath she saw there, jaw clenching as they stood off. Nick and Sharky stood at the ready, prepared to come between the two of them if anything started. 

Realizing the situation wasn't in her favor, the sniper waved them all off and took the stairs two at a time. Probably heading to the roof access so she could keep an eye out with that formidable rifle of hers. Grace sat back down on her seat. She knew just what John had done, he was an asshole with an expensive fashion sense, but that didn't mean he wasn't a smart individual. He had gone about taking back his territories, and now in his final stretch he had wisely observed the last three before attacking. More likely than not he had seen Armstrong and waited until she left to attack - and she had definitely been tailed by one of his lackey's. Her eyes stared out the front windows. The best way to find where she was being held would be to follow key members of the Resistance, her friends, right to her. 

He knew where she was now. 

She could only hope there was something left of the town by the time this was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the cult could just own me at any time. Hope you liked this prelude to all the upcoming commotion :)


	34. Meridian (Pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long, it went through a lot of rewrites until I was satisfied with it.

The radio call had left everyone on edge, and true to his word the rest of the day played out like John had promised. Greenbush Fertilizer had fallen in the late afternoon despite Armstrong's efforts to keep them primed and alert a few hours before. It was now apparent there was a large multitude of faithful that had been living in his bunker, the numbers that emerged to help him take back the county were more than the Resistance could have prepared for. Now the day was ending, the last of the sunsets bright palette fading away into an ocean of dark blue. They had finally gotten the broken radio to work and kept it tuned to the Resistance's frequency. John didn't contact them again so they were able to get updates and hear what was going on around the region without interruption. 

Grace had gotten tired of sitting at the bar and opted to pace around the bar's dining area. It wasn't long before her eye began to twitch at the sense of at least one set of eyes watching her at all times. She had almost forgotten that she was a prisoner here, but was quickly reminded not to get too comfortable. As much as they cared about her, they were also the ones trapping her here.

Nick, Sharky and Armstrong were sitting around the radio, listening to the incoming updates pouring in from Kellett's. The Resistance had been immediately alerted about John's forces coming to retake the small cattle farm shortly after the fighting started. It was not a large outpost that needed convoys, instead intel had told them that there was a large, heavily armed group of followers that crept in under cover of darkness - they were upon them before an alarm could be triggered. The background of every transmission was punctuated with the sound of gunfire and fighting. 

None of the Resistance members in the town had been permitted to leave and help, as much as they wanted to. But it had been made clear that Fall's End needed as many people as they could to stay and hold the town, because it was a certainty that John would turn his cross hairs here after reclaiming the last outpost. 

Grace had never seen such a fire lit under John's ass before, even when she was wreaking havoc across his region. It was impressive if she got past the fact people on both sides were getting hurt. She had to fight the itch to go out there and defend people, but there was no way she could actually do that if she ran free. Who would she even defend, Resistance or Eden's Gate? Both? She had tried saving both sides before and it had left her broken hearted. No one would listen to her before, and they certainly wouldn't now. Maybe she should run out and stand between everyone and refuse to budge. That was amusing food for thought. 

The civilians mulling around town had been ordered to evacuate, returning home or finding somewhere to stay until this whole thing blew over. That, at least, made her heart feel a little lighter. From the sound of things it would only be a matter of minutes now before Kellett's was lost. Nick, who had been listening solemnly to the back and forth between members coordinating defenses, gave a resigned sigh and radioed them himself. To her relief he gave the members an all clear to bail if they couldn't hold their ground, requesting them to return to Fall's End if they were still able to fight. The silver lining here was that the Resistance would earn another few hours of prep time while John regrouped again for another surge. Armstrong suggested John might wait until morning when there was more visibility, but Grace knew it was far from likely. 

Any time that could be bought was crucial. Next the Baptist would head to Sunrise Farm, but there he would find it empty. 

The members at Kellett's had been confident that they could defend it, but the few farmers at Sunrise were more than happy to go home and stay out of John's war path when they found out what was going on. Not everyone was a fighter. They would beef the security here up more by the time cult forces reached the farm and found it absent any Resistance.

From the updates flooding in since outpost by outpost was lost, she learned that John had been taking most of the people from the outposts away alive. Sadly some would rather have fought to the death than be taken by him, and some didn't rationalize surrendering even though they were hopelessly outnumbered, getting themselves killed. The death toll wasn't too rough, but Resistance members were likely being taken to John's Gate. It wasn't too comforting to think about what would happen down there, but trying to convert them wasn't as bad as killing them outright. She could see Joseph's strings tangled in John's approach, knew that the younger brother had been told to save people unless left no alternative. It made her miss him more. 

There were a handful of Resistance outside the front and back of the bar, with only the five of them inside the Spread Eagle itself. Mary May had been working on barricading the back of the building while they all remained in the bar area. Grace had stopped trying to convince them to let her go, she understood _why_ they wouldn't, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. The beginning's of a headache throbbed in her temples as she tried to predict how things would play out. A part of her was terrified about who would get hurt while another part was thrumming at the thought of making it to Joseph. After awhile, so lost in thoughts of tactics and outcomes, she had forgotten how easy it was to fall back into the routine of devising a plan of action until she glanced at the clock and saw that another half hour had passed. 

"So this is it?" Grace asked, half turning from the windows to look at her friends, "You lost the whole Valley rather than let me go." 

"He was pushing back before Armstrong and Dutch pulled their little stunt. Just not this heavy. We got too comfortable after you gained us ground, could've been more ready. But even so the Resistance is willing to fight for the Deputy that's done so much for them." 

"Do they know I _want_ to go?" 

Nick paused. Armstrong wore an impassive look, standing up and retreating to the back to help Mary May with the barricading. Grace stared as Nick and Sharky stayed put at the bar, exchanging nervous glances as they each tried to think of the right response. 

"They've heard...vague details. But, uh, a lot of 'em think you aren't in your right mind cuz of whatever they did to you." 

"They didn't do _anything_ to me!" Grace snapped, arms dropping to her sides. A sudden rush of annoyance and resentment bubbled up within her before she could blink. 

" _Nothin'_?" Nick spoke sharply, raising a brow, "They carved you up like a damned turkey!" 

"I _wanted_ it!" She raged, knowing that admission just made her seem crazier, that nothing she could say truthfully would make her sound sane to them. As she stormed past them to go to the bathroom they tensed as she came close as if expecting some physical retaliation, but she refused to acknowledge whatever look they were probably giving her as she left the room. Closing the bathroom door behind her she flipped the light on and paced around the small space, trying to get her hands to stop shaking from the frustration that had built up within her all too quickly. Quiet minutes later she stopped pacing again when her lower back began to throb. Normally she wasn't prone to backaches, but maybe all this sitting and waiting was cramping her muscles. The sedentary lifestyle definitely was not for her. 

Sitting down to use the toilet, she grabbed a pad from the pile Mary May had left for her on the sink. Reaching to change her current one, she stopped short and frowned. Only a few small flecks of dark red were visible, clearly old. She put the unopened pad back with a tired exhalation. So this had been a false alarm, her body not quite healthy enough to start a full on cycle with all the violence and stress thrown her way the last few months. Heck, even the last few _days_.

Finishing up her business and leaving the bathroom, she stayed in the kitchen and watched for a bit as the back doors were boarded up. Mary May had been so happy when Grace had liberated Fall's End, finally being able to move back into her bar and open it up for business again. It must be hard on her to have to board it up all over. 

The only thing she could do right now was wait for more dominoes to fall. 

\-----

Grace felt too tired to attempt conversation with anyone else again. They denied her request to let her sleep in her old room upstairs, apparently they hadn't made it prisoner proof yet. Instead she had been given a sleeping bag and rolled it out near the arcade machine, awkwardly trying to position her handcuffed wrists beneath her head as she lay down. At least the music coming from the arcade was enough to distract her and help her fatigued body drift off to sleep. 

She was awoken to Sharky shaking her shoulder gently a few hours after midnight, handing her a pillow and letting her know that John had occupied Sunrise Farms. Even the comfort of something soft to lay her head on couldn't help get her back to sleep after that. Not when the countdown until this confrontation just got much shorter. She wasn't afraid of the Eden's Gate, John or anyone that followed him. She was afraid of people losing their lives as this played out. 

\-----

The sun rose and morning came and went. The town was eerily quiet, the calm before the storm settling over town and making the day feel somber. Members were going up on rooftops and keeping an eye out for any sign of John's small army headed their way. Others were stationed in various places, armed and ready to defend the town the moment anyone rolled in. Reinforcements of those who had made it out of Kellett's had arrived and added to their numbers. 

Armstrong was on the roof with her rifle. Mary May was lamenting the fact she hadn't kept the Widowmaker parked at the bar while Nick and Sharky made sure everyone had a loaded weapon, except Grace, of course. What cars had been parked outside the bar had been moved to the main streets of town, blocking the roads leading in. The Resistance was ready, and Grace's heart couldn't take waiting much more. More than anything she just wanted this to be over and done with. As the morning ebbed away she found herself tracing her scars, a brush against the ink on her collar, fingertips grazing at the cuts on her inner arm. Anything to feel closer to that safe place she found in Joseph and not in the tense bar. 

Months ago it would have been impossible for her to imagine feeling safer with Eden's Gate than the Resistance. So many things had changed in a short amount of time. 

She kept an eye on her radio, which sat on the bar top next to the larger one they had fixed yesterday. Mentally she willed John or Joseph to reach out. It was so tempting to snatch it up and tune it to frequency thirty three, to do something to hear his gentle voice. Instead she fidgeted in a seat by the front windows, the ticking of the clock slowly driving her insane. The rest of the bar faded around her, she didn't take note of any conversation or efforts to talk to her. Outside she could see last minute preparations getting set up, proximity and remote explosives being prepped for placement. The familiar sight made her heart sink. 

There was no other land left for John to take back. So while the Project may be taking prisoners, this would be the Resistance's last stand in Holland Valley and all bets were off as far as they were concerned. 

Some higher power must have been smiling down on her because she wasn't kept waiting long. The tension eventually broke around one in the afternoon, heralded by the shouting of the lookouts as they spotted convoy's heading towards town. Grace shot up from her seat like an arrow that had been notched for too long, most members were already in place outside but a few were running down the street to get into position. She strode towards the doors, following a pull of her heart, needing to see the force that had been taking the Valley by storm. 

Her friends were a little late in noticing her departure, busy relaying the message across the frequencies before looking up as she opened the bars front doors and stepped out. 

The fresh air was a blessing in and of itself as it filled her lungs and whipped her hair around. Grace looked left and right down the main road, eyes searching desperately for the trucks, for the Project. Maybe the sight of John in his stupid jacket or Joseph and his signature glasses. What would she do if she saw Mallory or Cheryl? No. They wouldn't be here, they would stay at Joseph's compound. Looking down the streets she realized that there was something more conflicting than just seeing Eden's Gate as human, and that was seeing them as friends. 

There was only so much she could look, though, before Sharky had taken hold of her upper arm and pulled her back inside. She jolted in surprise at the feel of his hand, his fingers pressing against the ' _Sloth_ ' carved there - where only Joseph and John had touched before. While all cultists wore their sins like she did they still felt very personal. And the thought of someone touching them, even by happenstance, who didn't understand them made her feel strange, made anger twist in her heart as she tried to wrench her arm free. 

But as much of a spitfire as Grace could be she was still tired, wounded and undernourished. She was able to resist the tug on her arm for only a short while before she found herself holding onto the door frame, trying to take as much in as possible before being confined inside the bar again. 

What she had been able to briefly see hadn't been disappointing. 

If the youngest Seed had put this much confidence and energy into seriously fighting back the Resistance before, then she would have had a harder time liberating it. Instead, usually, John preferred to play cat and mouse with his prey. He had a playful, sadistic mindset that was the ultimate reason taking the Valley hadn't been as hard as she knew it could have been. Hell, he had caught her three times and she always escaped easily. Whatever drove him now, though, did not involve toying or taunting. It was primal, a cardinal mission that John would rather die than fail. 

Grace knew this because she had never once seen a town or outpost surrounded by several convoys down each road, not even when she had taken every last property. Trucks had driven in from all four main roads leading to the town square, keeping back a distance from the cars the Resistance had parked to block the roads. Close enough for their proximity to be worrisome, but not far enough so that they would be able to ram their way through the hasty roadblocks. 

Each truck was mounted with an M-60 and must have been filled with at least four peggies in the back, most definitely armed to the teeth. She couldn't count how many she saw, had only seconds to peek down each side of the roads before her fingers released the door frame and she was being yanked fully inside once more. 

Grace hadn't made out John, but she paced futilely in front of the windows again trying to get a decent view. The tension had left her and been replaced with a jittery adrenaline. She hadn't been able to sleep waiting for this moment to finally come. While Armstrong stayed on the roof the rest of her friends started boarding up the front windows, to her annoyance. Did they expect her to stay here and not be able to watch what was happening? Once again, it made sense but frustrated her. Every hammered nail made her feel claustrophobic, like she was being sealed in here forever. It was a feeling that she had been able to push away after being freed from her rope bindings, but now they were hunkering down for the long haul. 

Armstrong radioed them from her position on the roof, making everyone stop and listen. 

"There's a lot of damn peggies outside. Two full armed convoys down each road. We won't be able to drive out or get reinforcements in. Don't have an exact number, yet. Eight trucks total and forces coming alongside on foot." 

Grace reached her old radio first, beating Nick by a few footsteps. 

"Do you see John out there?" 

She could feel Armstrong's disdain, but kept stubbornly silent until she answered. 

"No. I don't see Gucci Belt anywhere. Put Nick on." 

Grace sighed and relinquished the radio, crossing her arms and wishing she had some way to defend herself. Though what good would she be, really, without intent to kill? And while she was certain that John's orders included not hurting her, it was hard to feel safe without a weapon after so many months of constantly having one. For a few agonizing minutes there was silence, broken eventually by John's familiar drawl on the radio - the transmission cutting off their conversation and sounding fuzzier than usual. 

" _Hello_ Fall's End! My it has been awhile. I have to admit I'm feeling nostalgic." 

Grace reached out to take the radio on instinct, but Nick had been expecting it. Holding it at arms length away, he shot her a warning look. 

"Any chance you're gonna turn around and leave us the hell alone?" He growled. 

"Why of course! Just hand over the Deputy, then we shall turn around and leave this cesspool no worse for wear!" His voice was lighthearted, though everyone knew it would be more fun for him if his enemies put up a fight. He had to be positively preening over his recent victories, at being given an important mission by his older brother. Who there still had been no word on. 

"Over my dead body."

"Remember those words, Rye. And know that this could have been avoided." 

There was no further word from John, no white noise from his line and no response from any goading Nick attempted. Another few minutes passed with nothing to fill the silence except the hammering of nails. The windows were only half boarded up when a distant buzzing sound reached their ears. Grace caught it first, tilting her head forward to listen and demanding they stop hammering for one damn moment. They looked at her exasperatedly before eventually hearing it themselves, brows creasing as they looked at each other. 

Grace stood up on a chair and peeked over the uncovered top half of the windows, eyes scanning for the source of the sound that she had heard so many times before. If it had been nighttime she wouldn't have been able to spot them, but the sun shone through the clouds and made visible the Chosen's fighter planes in the sky drawing steadily closer. At the head of the formation was a familiar sleek, black plane. She had seen it only twice. Once when it had blown her and Burke's truck over the bridge the night of Joseph's arrest, and again when she had broken into Seed Ranch to take Nick's plane back. 

The _Affirmation_ drew closer, the sound of it and the two planes flanking it becoming louder and unmistakable. The Resistance members outside began opening fire the moment they came within range, but it wouldn't be enough. Her heart thudded and she couldn't formulate any words to the people around her - realizing too quickly what John intended to do first. He knew she was here but he would need to make some openings to actually retrieve her. Risky openings. 

There was the telltale sound of a projectile being launched, accompanied by the main street being bombarded straight through with gunfire. Grace barely had time to grab onto the arm of the person closest to her, Mary May, and run towards the bar counter for cover. 

But she had hesitated a few seconds too long, and before they could round the counter the projectile landed somewhere close outside. The blast blew out the tops of the windows and sent everyone inside to the ground in a burst of heat and broken glass.


	35. Meridian (Pt. 2)

There was something anticlimactic in how she felt after the first round of missiles ravaged the main street of Fall's End. 

Mainly, how after the dust had settled and smoke burned her nostrils, she did not find herself as distraught as she'd expected to be. All that worry and stress only to find herself calm in the face of attack, some primal part of herself emerging back into the familiar mindset from when she dealt with these situations on a daily basis. They had undoubtedly lost some of the members posted outside, but as Grace lifted herself from the floor into a sitting position there was an unmistakable lack of misery that usually accompanied people dying around her. Instead, she was more attuned to the bite of shattered glass beneath her palms, to the bruising on her face beginning to throb with the ebbing of her adrenaline. She hadn't hit the back of her head, but her stitches stung painfully anyways. 

The boards had mostly held up, but the glass of the windows had been blown to pieces. Smoke and dust from the road drifted into the bar followed by waves of heat and the acrid smell of hot metal. Blinking through the smoke she could see that already Nick and Sharky had picked themselves up and began boarding up the remaining half of the windows with renewed fervor. Shouts had started up down the roads where the roadblocks met the convoys, the unmistakable sound of gunfire peppering in the background felt like overkill in the aftermath of the air strike just dropped. 

Beside her on the floor Mary May groaned, and Grace ignored the cuts she'd garnered from all the broken glass as she stood herself up and helped the barkeep off the ground. 

It was hard to hear the communications that started rapidly coming in via radio - not over all the commotion now going on outside. John didn't give them a chance to catch their breath, but by the time the second round of holy fire rained down the wood barricade over the windows had been finished. The boards shook but held firm, and as long as John wasn't going to hit the building directly they should be alright. Grace watched everyone scrambling around detachedly, feeling miles away even though she was quite literally in the middle of it. While they were digging their heels in she was coming to terms with something that only being in the midst of a war could reveal about oneself. 

People would die here today, and it wouldn't break her like it nearly had in the past. 

She would not crumble like she had before. It was a sad loss of life, yes. But deep down Grace had known that this was the only way things would get resolved, and maybe she was more afraid of that acceptance then the actual loss. John had given them an option, if they had just put aside their pride and let her go then this could have been avoided. Nick could be home with his wife and newborn daughter, Sharky could be making more piss bottles, and Mary May would be serving stale beers. She had given until she couldn't anymore, cared with all of her heart for the Resistance and her friends in this room. Maybe there just wasn't much left to give them. 

This was the one of the first instances where the Seed's wrath wasn't affecting her as much as it used to. Grace could sense the familiarity of it, examine the sin like one would the page of a book. If she had to use the same force to get Joseph back, wouldn't she? Wrath was still something she struggled against, the sin that most defined her. It was so easy to unleash her anger upon everything, and being further from her main source of calm - after everything that had happened the last few days - was making that very apparent. Yesterday she had been ready to do some terrible things to Armstrong. 

Now that the front end of the bar was protected Nick and the others returned to the old radio, trying to listen and keep track of the Resistances losses. The smoke in the dining area was slowly settling, allowing Grace to move around without the worry of bumping into any tables or chairs. Walking up to the nailed boards, she placed a bloody palm flat on the hard wood to feel the heat on the other side of it. There were still things burning out on the road. She tried to envision the John in his plane, enjoying being set loose upon the Valley again. 

Imagining Joseph made her hand tense, nails digging into the wood as she tried picturing him on the other side. Then a crackling sound caught her attention, one she hadn't heard from near the bar. 

Glancing to the side, her eyes caught on the familiar sight of a small worn radio laying on the floor. The one they had taken from her. Her heart leapt, her breaths quickening to keep pace with it. Nick must have dropped it after the first wave had knocked them all over. Grace looked furtively over her shoulder, making sure that her friends were all focused on the radio at the bar before quickly bending down to pick it up. She clipped it onto her waistband and tugged her shirt down over it in one fluid motion. Grace's heart fluttered at the idea she could finally contact Joseph. It couldn't be John, she didn't have a private channel she could reach him at, and if she used Fall's End 's frequency then her friends would hear and immediately realize she had gotten her radio back. For now they didn't seem to remember that they had even had hers. 

Walking as casually as she could into the back she told them she had to use the bathroom, excusing herself and locking herself inside once she got there. Immediately she leaned against the far wall, hands shaky with excitement as she let herself slide to the floor. Clutching it in front of her, she tuned to frequency thirty three. He had told her once that he'd always heard her, she had to trust that was still the case. 

"Joseph?" She whispered, hushed even though the noise from outside would make it hard for those in the bar to hear her. 

There was silence for a few beats before she tried again. 

"Joseph, are you there?" 

"Tell me where you are." His response was immediate this time, his tone serious and hastily spoken. Even so she _shuddered_ in relief as his voice reached her in the small bathroom. It had only been a few days but it might as well have been a millennia. It was like he was a drug she had been away from for too long, and she was instantly in a better mental place now that contact was restored. 

"I… I'm in Fall's End, I managed to get a hold of my radio." She explained, keeping part of her attention trained on the sliver of light coming through the bottom of the door, watching for any sign of feet walking past. 

"What building?" Another immediate reply. A question, spoken like a demand. 

"I'm alright, the missiles didn-" 

"What. Building." Worry, impatience. 

There was no room for mercy or forgiveness, not towards her, but towards the ones keeping her here. She responded quickly for him.

"The Spread Eagle bar." 

His end of the line cut out and then she was speaking to no one. With a sigh she looked down at the radio, gnawing at her lower lip as she waited. Normally he was not so impatient, but she knew that in this situation finally getting an update from her to relay around was critical. She couldn't be annoyed, not so long as he came back around to her. 

Less than a minute later he was back on the line, not sparing any time on small talk. 

"You understand what must be done, Grace. Why I cannot let this stand without raising arms." 

Of course he thought she would be upset at the show of force the Project had been using. But she had understood the moment she'd fallen to the floor earlier. 

"I can't believe the whole Valley got retaken." She admitted. 

"Thus I will punish the world for its evil, and the wicked for their iniquity." 

"I'm not angry, Joe. They were given a choice." 

"They will not keep you." 

"...I know." 

"Be safe, my Grace." 

With the loss of white noise on his end she knew he was gone again. Before she could forget she turned the radio off and clipped it onto the waist of her jeans once more. There would be no chance getting contacted on it and risking her one link with Eden's Gate. Flushing the toilet she hadn't used, she washed her hands and walked out - rubbing at her forehead like she had needed a minute from the stress of it all. 

"What's the word?" Grace inquired, walking towards everyone still huddled around the bar's radio. Armstrong must still be on the roof, the engines of the planes were hard to hear but still present so they must be circling around overhead. Did this town had anti-aircraft support like mortars or launchers? 

"Resistance outside is engaged with the ground gunners and those pricks in their mounted trucks. No luck getting much damage on those planes when their altitude is so high." 

"Losses?" 

He grimaced, "Won't be able to get solid numbers for awhile." 

"Nick, _please_. Just hand me over. Go home and be with Kim and your daughter." 

Her friend fixed her with a stare that made her regret asking again. Whether she wanted it or not these people cared about her. And on top of that, while she had done a lot for their cause, it was worth more than her in this moment. This had to be a stand for the Resistance as well. There was a distance between them now that she hadn't even noticed grow until it was too late. Turning, she fidgeted with the metal of her handcuffs, resolving to continue to try and figure out a means of escape. 

\----- 

" _Now_ who is keeping people unwillingly, eh? All these little houses… I wonder if anyone is home?" John mused over the radio, his voice followed shortly after by the sound of an explosion, the blast rumbling the floor beneath their feet. Since her talk with Joseph there hadn't been any more blasts uncomfortably close to the Spread Eagle. Surprisingly little had changed in the last few hours as the fight raged on outside, except for Grace having scoped out all available options for escape. 

Running out the front door wasn't an option, the main street was still a hot zone for the Chosen's air assault and her friends would be right behind her to yank her back in again. If she was careful she could take intermittent trips into the back and try to remove some nails from the boards blocking the back exit over time. Or she could try and sneak upstairs but something told her that getting anywhere closer to Armstrong was a bad idea, and going _up_ did not necessarily equal getting _out_. The back door would be her best bet if she could remove the boards without drawing attention to herself. 

She was so engrossed in her planning that she didn't notice when the gunfire began to become more distance and slow to a stop, signalling a brief interlude to the fighting down the roads. 

"We're getting an update, Dep." Nick called from the doorway, making sure she'd heard before retreating back into the main room. Grace followed on his heels, fast walking towards the dining area in time to get the last bit of a transmission filled with static, most of the words hard to decipher. 

" _We---Joseph Se--comin---_ " 

She pushed away from the door frame and moved past Sharky and Mary May, angling herself closer to the radio to hear better. There was too much interference to make out whole sentences.

" _Gotta ge---fast before he---_ " 

Her brows furrowed in frustration as no other intelligible update made it through. Still, it was just enough to let herself and those around her know that the Father had shown himself again. She ached for more information, wanted to run back into the bathroom and radio him again to ask what was going to happen, but made herself stay rooted near the bar with her friends. They were currently arguing over the possibility of Joseph actually being nearby, worried about the ominous lack of gunfire heard from outside. 

But mostly they were ambitious, not able to resist the idea of being able to take out John and Joseph together. 

"That motherfucker is out there!" Armstrong's voice surprised them all, and they collectively turned to look towards the stairs as she stomped down them. The sniper looked disheveled, face sooty and sweat coated from defending up on the roof. 

"Which motherfucker? We got a lotta them out there." Sharky retorted, unable to keep himself from instinctively looking out the window even though it was boarded up. He fidgeted around, tapping his fingers on the bar top with nervous energy. "See there's bearded motherfuckers, got them fighter plane fuckers, some sneaky mofo's trying creep they asses around town. Hell, some of them are even crazy _lady_ motherfuckers. We won't call them bitches, we're gonna call em' motherfuckers like everyone else cuz we keepin' it PC in here." 

Leave it to Boshaw to start rambling away his nerves when another big player just entered the picture. Grace would have laughed, glad for the distraction, if she weren't itching to get out of here something awful. If this situation anything but what it was. Armstrong held up a hand so that he wouldn't continue, rolling her eyes up towards the ceiling. 

"The _Father_. Saw him through my scope, but he didn't stay visible for long. Otherwise we'd have one less problem to worry about." 

Grace grit her teeth and willed her wrath down, trying not to imagine how close her lover had came to taking a well timed bullet between the eyes. Eyeing the rifle strapped to her back, she imagined grabbing it and breaking it over the counter so it never had a chance to hurt anyone she cared about. She couldn't even ask where specifically he had been spotted, Armstrong would clam up the moment Grace expressed interest. 

"John still in the air?" 

"Yeah, those things have a decent sized tank. I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for them to need to refuel." 

Grace was about to leave them be and head into the back, intent on starting to discreetly remove the barricade from the door there, before the unmistakable serene voice of the Father was heard from outside. It sounded like it was being broadcast around the small town - far away but all encompassing. She froze mid step, wondering if she had gone well and truly insane, before turning back around and running towards the front of the bar. Ignoring her dumbfounded friends as she ran past them, Grace braced her cuffed hands on the boards separating her from freedom - pressing her ear to the wood so she wouldn't miss a word. 

"Resistance of Fall's End. We have surrounded you on all sides. Your forces will not hold ground for long."

 _Yes_ , he was actually here. From the sound of it he was speaking into a radio, but if it was being broadcast around the town then she knew that the trucks filled with speakers that the cult used - usually to to blast music for the angels - were being put to a new use. 

"This town was not built to withstand the wrath of God, and my flock will not be deterred. The Deputy will be released into our custody by midnight, or like the locusts you are you will be cut down. This is the will of the Father." 

Grace kept her cheek pressed to the window, closing her eyes and smiling to herself as she let out a chuckle of relief. They hadn't had word on him for a few days, and now she knew he was closer than ever. Had heard him twice in one day. She didn't care how she must look anymore, because certainly she looked crazed, but that was irrelevant now. Soon she wouldn't have to worry about her image or keeping these friends placated, because she would be free. 

_Soon_.

\-----

Midnight could not come fast enough. Joseph had made his declaration sometime after noon, which gave the Resistance ample time to decide what they wanted to do. There had been no ceasefire in the interim, which meant that the gunfire outside had resumed for the rest of the day. The Chosen kept circling overhead, but the Affirmation had left the skies. For the next few hours reports poured in noting casualties on either side. The Resistance were holding ground for now, but it the cult's force was bigger and if this dragged on more than a few days then they would be in trouble. 

Unable to tear Grace away from her place at the windows, they had left her leaning against it with Mary May to watch over her from the bar.

Understandably they didn't see it fit to let her in on what their plan would be, so the small group had retreated back into the kitchen and left the two women up front. All she knew was that whatever it was involved her, and it wasn't hard to puzzle out that they knew she would try to sabotage their strategy. Which was fine, really. At least they still hadn't noticed she had gotten her radio back. 

Grace let her eyes close, the heat from the earlier air strikes had faded and left the wood feeling cool against her cheek. Her body ached, from her wounds and time in captivity, her stomach clenched in hunger, and she had barely gotten any sleep the last few days. At least if she stayed in this spot then there was a chance she could hear that comforting voice again. Fatigued as she was, she curled her elbows in closer so as not to pull at the cuffs around her wrists, using her arms as a buffer between her body leaning against the hard surface. 

"What did they do to you?" 

The question was spoken in quiet disbelief, Grace wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been keeping an ear out for Joseph. Cracking an eye open, she didn't bother turning her head to fully face Mary May - who was looking like she didn't recognize Grace at all. And was that a hint of pity? She supposed she was a sight to behold, curled against the wall desperately awaiting more news from Joseph. It didn't matter. Free soon. She could smell Beth's fresh bread and the hearty stew she had eaten before she'd left the compound. They wouldn't cage her or split the back of her head open. 

"I saved myself. They helped me save myself." Grace answered simply, shrugging and closing her eye once more. She was tired of feeling like shit, and would settle for getting to lay on an actual bed. There was no reply, just the feeling of disapproval ebbing from the other half of the room. 

The rest of the night dragged on painfully, literally and figuratively. Eventually her aching muscles had gotten tired and she had slunk to the floor, listening to different guns going off and cataloging them in her head. Slower shots, a hunting rifle. Big bursts, shotgun. Rapid fire from the M-60's mounted on the convoy trucks. More steady rounds from handguns. Whereas she had been sad the day before, now she wanted to smile at the absurdity of it all. The thought of everyone outside losing their lives when they could have just let her go? Maybe it was her delirium, but it seemed laughable.

The clock told her it was eleven o'clock when Nick, Sharky and Armstrong rejoined them. 

"We've offered a deal to the Father." Armstrong said, the first to break the silence. 

" _What_?" Grace started, eyes flying open at the news. _Why didn't you tell me?_ She wanted to ask, but already knew they had decided not to keep her fully in the fold. 

"We radioed him back with an offer." 

Grace sat up and straightened her back, fists clenched tightly as she looked expectantly for more information. Nick looked angry, like he had definitely argued against this plan. Sharky wouldn't look at her, but his readable expression said he wished he had a genie to wish this whole situation away. Mary May wore the same shocked expression that Grace did.

"Well, what deal?" Grace demanded, leaning forward eagerly. 

"We aren't just gonna hand you over, not without getting something back in return." 

Grace scowled at the sniper, imagining all the different ways she could stand up and beat the daylights out of her until she finally spit it out. Armstrong eyed her bemusedly, seeming to sense her agitation. 

"A trade. You for Joseph." 

Immediately she snorted, her back relaxing as she rest back against the windows. The King wouldn't trade himself for a Rook. It was an outrageous request, and if they didn't hand her over on the Project's terms then they would simply take her back by force. 

"That was a stupid demand. Joseph isn't going to let himself be traded like that." 

"Funny you say that. He agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and your comments :) They add to my writers fuel!


	36. Blind

With only an hour to go until midnight Grace didn't have any time to sneak off again and radio Joseph. In the wake of the deal Armstrong had made with him there had been a tense standoff outside between the two forces. Or at least that's what she heard, because she still had no way to look outside and see. They removed her cuffs for just a moment in order to re-cuff them behind her back, rendering her spectacularly impotent. Instinctively she wanted to beg them to reconsider, to rage at them until they understood why they couldn't lay a hand on him. But keeping calm and battling her wrath was something Joseph had imparted upon her, tenuous as her grip on it was. 

Ah, the chosen man in her life. He is many things. Devoted, strong willed, intense, patient, introspective - and apparently he had gone _off_ the _deep end_. Grace loved him, but he was a firm believer in the whole ' _God will not let you take me_ ' notion and it was going to give her a heart attack. She wasn't sure if there really was a big man up in the clouds watching over them, but if there was he was going to be in some serious shit if he let anything happen to Joseph. 

One of her friends had a hand wrapped firmly around one of her arms at all times while they all got busy shrugging on bulletproof vests and arming up for the trade off. Which was smart of them, because as they started removing the boards from over the front doors she could feel her body tense in anticipation. If she could get away from them once they were outside then maybe she could escape and circumvent this whole deal from happening. Her mind raced as they waited for the removal of the barricading. 

How in the world could his brothers have signed off on this? There was no way they could be okay with this whole thing. John definitely wouldn't approve, and who the hell knew what was up with Jacob. She hadn't even seen that guy since the night of the arrest, and part of her was grateful. From what she heard about what he did to people up in the mountains she was fine staying far away from the Whitetails. The longer she thought about it, the more she recalled that his brothers _had_ stood by and allowed her to cuff him, intent on flying him to Missoula to await trial. Shit, no. Think of something else besides people who would go along with Joseph's reckless plans. 

To calm herself more she focused on keeping an eye on the people around her, noting their load outs, who seemed more tired and who seemed fueled up for a fight. When they got outside she would try to do what she could. 

A little before twelve am the boards had been removed from the door and some Resistance members from outside opened it up for them all to move out. Armstrong, unfortunately, was the one to keep a hold on her. Before they could start walking out, though, Mary May came in front of Grace after a motion from Armstrong and started to muss up her hair. Confused, she slid a questioning glance in the sniper's direction. 

"He'll be more inclined to keep up his end if you look a little worse for wear. Don't worry, you look like shit as it is." 

"Thanks to you." Grace snapped, not able to put a lid the sudden resentment boiling up at her manipulations, those fragile bonds of control slipping away from her. Her face was scraped up and bruised all over, and she hadn't been able to see the back of her head but her stitches probably weren't too pretty. That, and she hadn't had a shower in awhile so she still had blood caked into her hair and on her shirt. Her wrists were red and irritated from the constant presence of handcuffs. It was true, Mary May didn't really have to do much to make her seem thoroughly fucked up. With a look close to chagrin Mary May stepped away and gave Nick a small roll of silver duct tape. 

Hopefully the reason everyone was avoiding looking at her was because they knew how shitty this whole thing was. 

A minute later they were walking out the door, Grace immediately shivering as the chilly night air met her flimsy button up shirt. She felt uncomfortably vulnerable without the use of her arms or the ability to speak, the sound of her blood pounded in her ears with every step she took. Grace had wanted to get a good look at the night sky and what the town had looked like in the wake of the fight going on, but there was a thick fog blanketing the Valley tonight. Grace could make out the blackened char of destroyed vehicles close by, and the streetlights shining overhead along the street, but truthfully she hadn't seen a fog this bad since she left Dutch's bunker. 

When she had first left it her time had been spent liberating his island of the few peggies that roamed it. It had been a good crash course to pass the time with until visibility was restored enough for her to leave. There was no way she could have crossed the river without being able to see, but luckily it had receded a few hours later. That same dense fog was here now, but before she could worry about how they would know where to go they were being ushered down the road by other Resistance members. 

It was at this point that her worry and anger began to manifest physically, she slowed her steps and made Armstrong need to tug her forward. She tried to think of anything, anything at all to stop this deal from happening. Trying to run was still an option, even though she wouldn't be able to see where the hell she was going. And she hadn't taken into account the other Resistance members milling about, keeping their guns pointed towards the cultists lurking deeper within the fog. This wouldn't go well at all, there was no way. 

Either it went off without a hitch and the Resistance got Joseph, or if it didn't go as planned then there would be more destruction where people she cared for might get hurt. 

Slowing to a stop, Armstrong looked back from the foggy road ahead of them and squinted at her. 

"Step to, Deputy!" She barked with a tug on her arm. 

Grace ignored her. No, it was more likely that this trade off would not be so simple. Sure the cult had let Joseph go with the authorities, but look how _that_ had turned out. They were walking into a shit storm all over again and she had to stop it before the same thing happened. 

With a huff of panic she took an indignant step backward, pairing it with a harsh yank of her arm. She mustered all her remaining strength into pulling away as much as she could with her balance impaired by the handcuffs. 

Armstrong hadn't been expecting it at first, Grace's arm slipping from her grasp and affording her a few stumbling steps back. Surprised at actually managing to lose the grip on her arm, she didn't let herself dwell on it as she spun quickly and broke off running in the opposite direction. Her muscles protested their sudden use after days of barely moving, but she had been a runner her whole life and gained traction fast. Shouts started up behind her, her friends realizing what had just happened. She just had to reach the treeline, had to run past the Resistance's roadblocks and maybe make it to the cult's convoy's near them. 

Grace could only see a few feet in front of her, the white of the fog mixing with the smoke of the fire fights were making her panic more. Keeping up her pace, she heard heavy footfalls coming up behind her and pushed her disused muscles harder. Her lungs burned, her wounds hurt, and she was so tired. A week ago she would have been able to run right through town in record time, but this was the best she could do in her current state. Still, she was able to just make out the shape of the church of Fall's End as she drew nearer. That meant she was getting close to the roadblock, if she could go up on the lawn of the church and go around, then-- 

This _damned_ fog, she couldn't see a thing! As if summoned by her frustration she tripped over something, which turned out to be the curb of a sidewalk, and stumbled ungracefully. Although she regained her balance before she could lose her footing and fall, she only made it a few more steps before Armstrong crashed into her, tackling her to the sidewalk in front of the church. 

For the second time in a week she hit the ground, not able to protect her front with her hands cuffed as they were. She had at least been able to turn her head to the side, the hard sidewalk scraping her cheek anew, pain blossoming in her cheekbone. The air was knocked out of her with Armstrong's weight atop her, she screamed in frustration and ignored the voice in her head telling her to keep calm. No, _fuck_ that, this was _not_ happening again!

Armstrong was straddling her back, panting from chasing her halfway through town. Grace waited until she could get a sense of where her head was before throwing her head back, hitting the mark as the back of her head collided with her friends face. 

They both cried out simultaneously. Grace, as some of her stitches came loose, and Armstrong as her nose came close to being broken by the back of Grace's head. While the sniper was cursing and checking her nose she bucked her off - the hands behind her back grabbing at her friends shirt and tugging her to the side as she threw Armstrong off balance. Feeling blood trickle down her cheek and the back of her head, she scrambled to her knees and winced as she lowered her arms down to bring them under her feet and in front of her once more. By the time she had stood up she had her fists clenched at the ready, turning to face the woman who had kidnapped her days ago. 

Joseph was going to have to forgive her for this whole wrath thing. 

Armstrong's cap had fallen off when she was knocked off to the side, her nose bleeding and her expression angrier than ever. Guess she didn't like it too much when she was the one getting beaten up on. Before she could stand up fully, however, Grace closed the distance between them and lashed out with her right leg, kicking Armstrong back down once more. The kick connected with her stomach and she instinctively curled inwards to clutch it, but Grace was upon her in an instant reversing their previous position. Straddling her hips she realized it would be difficult to throw a punch with cuffed wrists, instead immediately wrapping her hands around her throat.

The wrath she had been keeping in for days boiled in her veins as she looked down at her old partner. They had taken this whole county together, had met not too far from here in a similar church. The woman that thanked her for helping protect graves from being desecrated was nowhere to be seen as she stared hatefully up at Grace. She didn't see her as a friend anymore, or maybe even a human. She was just another Peggie to her now. Grace could never truly win, not when it wasn't as easy for her just to put someone she cared about under label and file them away. 

As her hands tightened around Armstrong's airway she began clawing at Grace's arms, trying futilely to reach her neck and choke her right back. She leaned back and kept her own neck out of reach, bringing a knee up to press into Armstrong's abdomen to keep her down and away. 

"Fucking _traitor_!" She rasped out, stupidly using up precious air to tell her off. 

"You nearly _killed_ me! I would have never done that shit to you!" 

Her vision was turning white, adrenaline coursing through her as she choked Armstrong on the sidewalk in front of the church. She began punching at Grace to get her to release her neck, landing hits on her face and ribs - but all she could think about was how if she let go then she might lose Joseph forever. At some point she had become willing to kill for him. She thought of Faith and his brothers, beginning to think that maybe she was a traitor. But being a traitor and hurting ones friends didn't have to go arm in arm. None of this had to have happened. 

Just as Armstrong was starting to fade away, eyes fluttering as she struggled in vain to inhale air, she suddenly let out a grunt and reached up enough to get a fistful of Grace's hair, tugging on the side of her head that nursed the stitches. With a howl of pain she flinched, distracted by the ruining of her stitches enough to be pushed to the side. But they had just gone through this same motion before, and Grace had enough sense to kick out in Armstrong's direction when she tried to climb on top of her. 

As she crawled over to her and tried to grab at her, Grace was able to land a few hard hits to her shoulder and chest before managing to stomp down on one of her hands. Armstrong hissed and drew back, sending her a murderous glare before catching one of her flailing ankles in a vice like grip. Breathing heavily with exertion, still bleeding from her nose, she began to drag Grace down towards the street.

"Deputy," She panted between pulls, "you _will_ be hauled down there, and you can say one last goodbye to your boyfriend before we _take_ that sick fuck." 

Grace clawed at the grass, at the grooves where the sidewalk foundation was separated, anywhere to try and get something to hold onto. On her back she looked wildly around, trying to see anything and anyone through the fog. The only thing she could hear was Armstrong and a ringing that had started up in her ears after her stitches tore open. With a surge of core strength that she would _definitely_ be feeling later, she curled herself up enough to reach forward and grab the combat knife she knew Armstrong always had strapped in her boot. 

Before the sniper could register what had happened Grace was already swiping at her, making a decent gash across the back of one of the hands holding her ankle. With a shout of surprise and pain her ankle was finally released, only for her to be quickly grabbed before she could begin to stand up. Armstrong pinned down the arm holding the knife, using her other quite bloody hand to take it from her and hold it against her neck. Grace could keep going in these circles until she had no life left in her, writhing in an attempt to get free from her grip until the tip of the knife was pressed to the skin of her neck. 

She went silent and still, breathing raggedly as the tip bit into her neck just enough for blood to bead up. They seethed at each other as they caught their breath, both unflinching and unwilling to back down. Would Armstrong kill her now? Would she be knocked out and presented for trade without being conscious? Her hand that wasn't being held down was carding through the grass at her waist, subtly feeling for something she could use. 

"You're not gonna fuck this up, Dep. Just face it." 

Grace closed her eyes, her hand coming across a decent sized stone and closing around it. It wasn't a smooth rock, the edges were jagged and sharp. One last try, even if it meant that knife sliding deeper. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't try until the very end. When she opened her eyes once more Armstrong was grinning, a victorious look on her face. Taking a single breath Grace gripped the rock and swung hard, landing a sweeping blow that ran like a razor across her eyes. Her head jerked to the side with a yelp and Grace brought her arm back, coming in a second time to slam the rock right into her nose and send her reeling backwards. Satisfied when she heard the telltale _crunch_ that signaled the cartilage breaking, she let her arm fall to her side.

Armstrong screamed, dropping the knife and covering her eyes with her hands. It wasn't pretty. Grace might as well have raked her fingernails across her retinas. 

"Goddamn, my _eyes_! Motherfucker!" She raged, fingers shakily feeling around her eyes. "I can't fuckin' _see_!"

The sight of her immediately sated the wrath inside of her, she let the bloody rock tumble from her hand. Nose broken, eyes ruined. She never wanted to see her again, never wanted to be reminded of what bloody eyes looked like. Before either women could make another move there were voices around them she hadn't even heard come close. Hands were pulling them away from each other and dragging them apart. Grace let them pull her away, eager to not have to deal with Armstrong anymore. However the sniper fought against the Resistance members taking her away, thrashing and screaming to be let go so she could finish things. Meanwhile Grace let herself be walked back, heading towards her fate calmly and without fuss like Joseph had once before. 

_Was blind but now I see._

Armstrong, however, would never see anything again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting so long to write these two finally having it out. I hope I did it justice, I'm not too used to writing fight scenes. In this fic the reason Armstrong can't really see in New Dawn is because of Grace. 
> 
> You guys have shown me so much support, let's get these two lovebirds back together!


	37. Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy heck, how did this story get to 10,000 hits?? This is craziness I can't even fathom that number. Thank you all so much.

The town was eerily quiet in comparison to the loud warring that had gone on throughout the day. With the Project and the Resistance keeping their attention, and guns, trained on one another there was not much by way of noise except for the sound of their small group walking. After Grace's confrontation with Armstrong had ended the latter had been taken back to the bar to get patched up. The blinded sniper had cursed at her until they had dragged her from of sight. Nick held onto her arm now, with a look on his face she wasn't quite sure she wanted to decipher. He had used the duct tape that Mary May had given him and put a length of it over her mouth, not that she had much to say now. She had made her point. 

They hadn't taken a moment to patch her up, however. Her torn stitches hurt more than getting the wound itself had. Grace didn't know if it was possible to be even more black and blue in the face, but she was pretty sure she was at her limit. She was cut up both from the blown glass from earlier and her recent scuffle, not quite sure what blood was coming from what wound. When had she last gotten more than a few hours sleep? A full meal? Grace prided herself on being a fighter, but she hadn't been in a bad way quite like this before. To think they were worried about her seeming too well kept earlier. Her whole body ached, protesting every movement she made as she was taken down the main road. 

Walking through the dense fog, Grace felt like it could be winter already. The chilly night air certainly made it seem that way, especially as the wet blood on her neck and shirt made her shiver whenever the wind blew. Flanked by Nick and Sharky, with Mary May and some other Resistance members trailing behind, they walked towards the intersection where the trade off would happen. This whole situation had a million different ways it could end badly. Normally when she had a hunch it turned out to be right, and Grace had a hunch that both sides were willing and able to screw over the other. If she had been feeling stable as she had been before they'd left the Spread Eagle she would have been practically dragging Nick forward to get to Joseph. But the fight, albeit short, had left her worn down. 

Nick was more responsible for keeping her upright than she would like to admit, his firm grips on her shoulder and arm grounding her. It was hard to think or make any plans with the painful throbbing emanating from the back of her head, the fatigue in her muscles. Sometimes the edges of her vision would start to blur and her steps would stumble, but Nick would stop and wait for her to shake it off before they kept moving. The street wasn't that long, and maybe her perception of time was skewed, but it took forever before the shine of headlights became visible through the fog. 

Her heart leapt to her throat as the distance between her and Eden's Gate grew smaller. There were four trucks, two belonging to the Resistance and two to the Project. One pair facing the other, the headlights illuminated the section of street between them where the trade off would take place. She could barely see past this point, and couldn't hear the telltale sound of plane engines overhead like she could earlier. Her thoughts were like a river flowing quickly through her fingers without being able to hold on to any one. Grace really needed to get her head checked.

Preoccupied with trying to focus her thoughts, she didn't notice when Nick came to a stop between the two trucks on their side. She stumbled forward as much as Nick's grip allowed, going down on one knee with a soft groan of discomfort that came out muffled from behind the duct tape. He helped her upright again and she found she had to lean against him to keep steady. There were cultists by their vehicles with guns raised in the Resistance's direction, Grace's eyes searched beseechingly through the fog and the shadows cast by the lights for any sign of the man she loved. 

"You are _late_."

"Yeah well something came up, we're here now." 

Her head snapped up in the direction of Joseph's voice, straining to see past the trucks. First she saw his outline, darkened behind the headlights glare, but she would know his gait anywhere. The calm and purposeful steps, arms resting at his sides, the set of his shoulders. 

"What have you done?" 

When he stepped past the vehicles he was bathed in light as she was - and Grace drank in the sight of him greedily. She felt like they had been apart for years, finding she needed to blink back a surge of tears welling up in her eyes. They fell regardless, trailing down her cheeks and mixing with the blood there. He was wearing the same outfit she had seen him in from that video shown to her in the helicopter the night her world changed. The video where he blinded a man with his thumbs for trying to record his sermon and reveal him to the world. She so wanted to tell him that she had punished someone similarly just minutes ago, that she had cast her wrath upon the wretch that had hurt her. He probably wouldn't think she had done enough, though, if the look he bore now was any indication. 

Joseph's eyes were hardened behind his aviators, lips pursed and pulled slightly down as he looked her over. His hands were clenched into fists, and she felt a stab of fear pierce her heart. Not for herself, but for her friends. Nothing could have prepared her for the pure menace that Joseph was radiating, even the Resistance members behind her shuffled nervously. Grace hadn't even registered the words he'd said, simply happy she could see him at all. The last memory she had of him was leaving him in his church a few nights ago. What she wouldn't do to go back in time and keep herself from leaving. 

For a second she had enough clarity to feel self conscious of how terrible she must look, but that thought, too, was quickly swept away. Now was not to time to worry about her pride. Not when more shadowy figures were appearing in the fog behind him, one by one, guns aimed steadily their way. If Joseph had the numbers, then why would he agree to this trade?

"We brought the Deputy. Time to turn yourself over." Nick replied, ignoring the question thrown at him. 

"What is the meaning of this?" He whispered tensely, nostrils flaring as his gaze left hers to bore into Nick. 

"She's alive, that's all we promised. And we had a deal." 

"If I had thought she needed protection from her _friends_ ," he hissed the word like it was a filthy term, "then I would have made it part of the deal." 

"We gonna do this or what, top knot?" Sharky spoke up from her left. Grace squirmed in Nick's hold, trying to silently plead to Joseph with her eyes. She could handle being held by the Resistance, but if they got a hold of him he wouldn't make it out alive. He wasn't looking at her, though, but past their little group. As if he could see their numbers past the dark of night and fog. Her vision swam before her, she swayed in place until the vertigo passed. Her hands were freezing, the metal of her cuffs turning colder the longer they were outside. 

"Grace." 

She blinked herself from her thoughts, watching his blurring figure in front of her. Nick's hand tightened on her shoulder. Joseph stepped forward, further out into the lit up area between the vehicles. 

"Stop there. Drop any weapons you got on ya and put your hands up." 

Grace shook her head at him, praying he would turn around and take himself out of harm's way. At least if she knew he was safe she could let herself pass out without worry. To her disappointment he obliged, stopping his advance and reaching behind his back. He pulled out a handgun and placed it on the asphalt, kicking it off to the side. Grace moaned desperately from behind the duct tape as he raised his hands into the air. This felt so _wrong_ , she knew he was a criminal - that everyone at this crossroads was at this point - but seeing Joseph actually be treated like one made her want to scream. And she didn't even have the energy to do _that_. 

"Good." Nick nudged her forward and she had to hold onto his arm in return so she didn't fall onto her face. "Now come forward slowly, no funny business." 

"You think everything to be a game. But I, in the Lord's stead, will correct the arrogance borne of your pride, and return the contempt of your ruthlessness." Goosebumps prickled up her arms. Who would be the ones to get hurt? Who, who--

"Quiet, Seed. There will be enough time for you to preach when we have you behind bars." 

He brought her forward, further into the center of the road with the intent to meet Joseph halfway. Even in her hazy state she resisted, feet sliding against the ground as she made Nick drag her. Joseph kept his hands obediently raised, his features schooled into serenity once more. But she knew his tells, the tick in his jaw and the sadness flashing in his eyes as he got a closer look at the state of her. He moved in as well, taking it step by step as Nick instructed until they were feet apart. 

"I'm sorry I could not come sooner." He spoke, softly, to her. Grace's tears felt warm against her cheeks. She wished she could rip this damned tape off and say something back! Instead all she could do was return his look and silently will him to reconsider. Convinced, rightly so, that she was in no condition to put up anymore of a fight, Nick removed her handcuffs and held a hand out to Joseph - beckoning him to bring his wrists forward. He didn't break eye contact as he brought his wrists out in front of him, and she wanted to smack him for being so calm at a time like this.

Before Nick could reach out and place the cuffs on him, there were surprised shouts sounding from the fields alongside the road. Everyone, except herself and Joseph, were looking around on high alert. The sound of shots being fired close by startled the Resistance members behind them and the ones fanned out in the grass. It was impossible to see out past the road in this weather, so Nick barked out an order to hold position as they waited for the scuffles to come closer. The cultists across from them didn't move. Grace's brows came together, searching Joseph's face for any hint of what he had up his sleeve. 

As the ranks from the fields came retreating back towards the road she heard low rumbles, not unlike the many cougars she had fought off traversing the countryside. Some Resistance stood their ground, swinging their guns to point out towards the sides of the road and whatever threat lay beyond the visibility of the fog. The rumbles came closer and Grace realized, finally breaking eye contact with Joseph, that it was _growling_. A vicious snarling that could only be made by an angry animal. 

"What the fu--" Nick was cut off before he could finish, jerking back and taking her with him in surprise as a wolf jumped out from the fog and bared its teeth in their direction. Grace would gape at the beast if she could. It's body was covered in scars, it's white fur was shaggy and there was what looked to be blood smeared in the shape of a cross on its forehead. She had come across wolves here and there, but never any that looked like _this_. Little tidbits of information she had overheard swam around her addled mind, she had heard something about wolves being trained but in the midst of everything happening it was hard to think. 

Gunshots started up around them as the Resistance opened fire on the wolf now prowling closer to Nick. There was a blast of flames to her left as Sharky ran forward and began going after the new assailants approaching past the fog, Mary May popping off a few rounds behind her as well. There were so many people rushing around now that Grace had trouble keeping track of what was going on. She settled for trying to keep her sights on Joseph, who was pushing aside the people running between them to reach out to her. She tried to tug herself towards him, but Nick's grip held firm as he shot at the wolf-- _wolves_ \--she realized, seeing blurs of white converging from the sides of the road. Joseph and Nick stared at each other, her heart sinking as he aimed his gun at Joseph, whose arm remained reaching mid-air for her. Grace braced herself, getting ready to do whatever it took to shake her friend's grip on her, but a split second later she was saved from having to take any action. 

The sound of glass shattering reached their ears as one of the trucks got pelted with molotov's, bullet's shredding through the metal of the hood to help the fire spread to the engine. The three barely had time to scrabble back before the truck exploded, sending them on their asses much like John's airstrike had earlier that day. Grace's back hit the pavement and she hissed, feeling the heat from the flaming truck warm her chilled skin as she lay on the side of the road. She was depleted, her vision fading in and out as the gash on the back of her head protested being thrown around so much. Looking up through drooping eyes she wished that the night sky was more visible through the fog and smoke.

Just as she let her eyes close and resigned herself to letting her limbs rest, the duct tape over her mouth was ripped off quickly. Grace startled and gasped, inhaling big gulp-fuls of air as she registered the stinging of her lips and the sudden freedom to move her mouth. Blinking up she saw Joseph crouched over her, his hand grasping her chin and turning her head from side to side to take fast stock of her injuries. The one of the back of her head would be hardest to show him, it was matted beneath her hair and dried blood. Before she could lift a finger he was sliding an arm beneath her knees and grasping her shoulder with the other, carrying her close to his chest, sparing no words as he began to run. 

She jostled against him as he picked up pace, not sure what to say or if she could even speak loudly enough for him to hear. So she let him carry her, hoping that no one would take notice of their departure amidst the war breaking out on the street. Grace could still hear the sound of wolves and the cultists that had converged on the Resistance, opening fire at them while they were preoccupied with the animals. She was so happy and so, so tired. 

She kept her eyes open just so she'd be able to look up at Joseph, turning her head partly towards his chest to breathe in the scent of him. 

Some time later he was whispering her name, squeezing her shoulder ever so slightly to wake her up. Grace hadn't even realized her consciousness had left her. The world was blurry when she opened her eyes, unable to catch focus on anything she looked at anymore. But it was very green all around, so she knew they weren't near town anymore. Suddenly Grace felt herself being taken from Joseph's arms and instantly panicked - starting to struggle restlessly in the different arms she found herself in, ready to claw at anyone trying to take her back.

A warm hand on her forehead halted her, smoothing her hair back from her face. 

"Shh, my Grace. All will be well. Let us take you from here." 

"I still don't see why I'm not staying to finish this out. You should take her there." A gruff voice, one she had never heard before. 

"You have experience enough to treat her wounds. Make sure we don't lose her now that she has been returned to us. I trust you with this, brother." 

Trusting Joseph, although not keen on being separated again, she went pliant in the new arms around her. The memories she had after that came to her in snippets - the feeling of strong arms holding her firmly, the smell of sweat and pine, the sound of the forest passing them by. The panting of wolves running alongside them. Whoever had her now she knew to be with the Project, so she did not struggle again. Maybe letting sleep claim her wouldn't be so bad now, the commotion at Fall's End sounding farther away with every minute. She rested her cheek against the chest of whoever had hold of her, feeling the press of something small and metal against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut. 

"Keep those eyes open, pup." A stern instruction, if all the running he was doing tired him at all it certainly didn't show in his voice.

With a groan that came out as a whimper she slid her eyes open a fraction. 

"I'm so tired." Grace mumbled. 

"Had a number done to the back of your head. Keep those eyes open." His voice left no room for protest or argument. It was so authoritative that she simply accepted the command and turned her focus to what she had felt against her cheek. Blearily she could make out the shape of dog tags and camo, but her attention was drawn to the fact she could make out the forest around her now. They must have come a long way to have passed the fog's radius. 

After a time she felt herself being set down against a tree. The bark was rough against her back, her head rolling to the side as she took in the clearing they had stopped on the outskirts of. She couldn't look too long, though. The man brought her torso forward and rested her forehead against his knee as he crouched at her side. There was the sound of a pack rustling before the press of alcohol soaked cotton against her torn stitches had her trying to pull away, moving her head back desperately to escape the stinging it brought. Her eyes watered but before she could pull away too far the mans free hand grasped the back of her neck firmly - immediately stilling her. 

The feel of his hand there was strangely comforting, even as it eliminated her ability to move her head. By the time he had finished the disinfecting she barely felt the pinch of the old stitches being taken out. The man was tense as he worked, moving with deft, practiced hands that had obviously done this many times before. She couldn't maneuver to look up at him, but could feel when he would lean back and do a quick look over their surroundings. 

She didn't know how much time they spent knelt on the ground like that, but by the time he was wrapping her wound up with gauze the temptation of sleep called to her again. His hand was warm on the back of her neck, grounding her and making her feel safe. Her eyes closed for the briefest of moments. 

"What did I say?" 

Grace flinched at the reprimand, like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She made sure to keep her eyes open, distracting herself by counting all the different colors on the forest floor she could make out around the man's boot. Did everyone in this county wear boots? She was so tired of seeing them at this point, maybe she should stop wearing shoes all together like Faith had. Finished, he let go of her neck and set her back against the tree.

"When can I sleep?" She asked, grimacing at the sudden pick up of strong wind that swept over the grassy clearing.

"Our ride's here." He tapped her knee roughly, finally drawing her eyes up to get a good look at him. 

Her eyes widened, mouth parting slightly as she looked at him clearly for the first time. Parts of his face and arms were covered with scarring, the sides of his head were shaved with a mop of red hair at the top and a beard like his brothers. A large sniper rifle was poking out from it's harness on his back.

The only time she had seen Jacob Seed was the night of Joseph's arrest. It was only briefly, but by now she had all of the Seed brother's committed to memory. Her breathing picked up, the memories that had eluded her earlier coming back to her with sudden clarity. She had heard talk that Jacob Seed trained wolves in the Whitetails, called them his Judges. He liked to brainwash people and put them through torturous training. It was said he even had a lieutenant that liked to cook people alive and eat them. 

He must have seen the panic evident on her face because a grin crossed his lips. The amusement didn't reach his eyes. 

"Good. Stay focused." 

Easier said than done. Grace wished she had been in good enough health to be more aware of what was happening. Picking her up again with little effort, Jacob brought her out into the clearing - the gusts of wind becoming stronger the closer they got to the _Affirmation_. It whipped her hair and made her cold all over again. When had this gotten here? While she was freaking out about meeting the eldest Seed, most likely. 

For the second time that day she was passed into the arms of someone else, immediately recognizing the tattooed hands that took hold of her. 

"You're not coming with?" 

"Meet you there, I'm going to make sure Joe got out okay." 

"Don't leave me waiting." 

The words were barely audible to Grace over the sound of the still running attack plane, able to hear John only because she was pressed up against him as he shouted to his brother. If Jacob responded then what he said was lost on her, watching him retreat back towards the tree line from her place in John's arms. When they could see Jacob no longer he turned stepped up into the aircraft to get her settled into the passenger seat. He was trying his best to avoid getting blood on his hands even though just holding her for a minute had ruined his jacket. She hated that thing anyways. Reaching across her and attaching her seatbelt, he grinned at her as she relaxed back into the comfortable seating. Of course even his attack plane had leather seats. The whole cabin smelled of his cologne. 

She was fading again, watching John's mouth move as he spoke but not hearing the words. Probably some clever quip. 

Grace sunk into a slumber she could no longer fight off, her pain fading into the back of her mind as the _Affirmation_ took off. She missed her chance to see the sunrise over the horizon a few hours later, landing safely by the time the rosy hues painted the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love getting to write more of our favorite cult boys :)


	38. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the week long wait, work has been hectic but I'm getting used to it!

_Maybe she should have just stayed in Missoula._

_That was the thought running through Grace's mind as the world burned around her. If she was truly the hell that followed the white horse, then wouldn't everything have been better if she'd just taken a sick day and stayed home? Just wrapped herself up in a blanket on the couch and watched reruns while her coworkers took a chopper to Hope County. It was scorching, the trickle of sweat making her shiver as it slid down the back of her neck. The ground beneath her feet trembled in the wake of the bombings throughout the county._

_The green grass had been overtaken by orange flame, the branches of the tall trees in the forest swaying as if the fire that coated them were bright autumn leaves. In front of her was the burning carcass of McCoy cabin, the smoke billowing out of the small structure as if it held entrance to hell itself. As she stood, unsure of what the purpose of being here was, the heat was slowly becoming unbearable. Grace reached for her shirt, intent on unbuttoning it, before realizing her fingers were grasping at her bare stomach._

_Looking down at her naked form she couldn't help the wry grin that graced her lips. Was this supposed to be one of those nightmares where she suddenly realized she was embarrassingly naked? The fire drew closer, licking at her heels and spurring her to walk forward towards the cabin. A thick haze of smoke clouded her vision, but the most she felt from it was a slow heaviness to each breath. The wood steps scratched against the soles of her feet as she calmly went up the porch and to the front door. The knob burned her palm, but she grit her teeth and held on, turning the hot metal and pushing open the door._

_There was nothing that could be seen past the smoke, but there didn't seem to be anywhere else to be now. The world was over. So maybe she had died and returned to the most peaceful place she could think of. This little haven that Joseph had granted her. Without effort memories of the days spent where he visited her everyday came to mind. He had made sure no one disturbed her, let her rest and heal. Simply talking to each other, guardedly at first and then melting into something more comfortable._

_Grace walked inside, one tentative step after another before feeling a wave of hot air blow past her. It prompted her to squeeze her eyes closed and raise her arm protectively over them. After a few seconds it dissipated and the air was still once more. Grace lowered her arm, peeking one eye open, gazing into the unscathed interior that had been so familiar to her._

_The couch still had her pack on it, Boomer's makeshift bed was still right next to it. Her map was spread out on the kitchen table, and her bed was unmade in the far corner. Everything was just the same as she last saw it. Glancing behind her, all she saw was the closed front door, no sign of the fire she had just walked through. Treading over to the windows she peered outside, eyes softening upon seeing the unburnt forestry of the Henbane._

_"I've waited so long."_

_Grace spun around, locking eyes with Joseph. He was as naked as her, standing a few feet away. No glasses. No hair tie. The Father perfectly comfortable in his own skin, unashamed of it. She turned to fully face him, his eyes never once straying down past her face._

_"Are we dead?" she whispered, not really wanting to know the answer. He didn't move, both of their bodies were coated in a sheen of sweat as if the fire was still engulfing everything around them. Outside the birds chirped._

_"I waited."_

_Confusion flitted across her face as she took a step forward, intent on asking him what he meant. When she opened her mouth a rush of cold spread from her forehead down her face and chest, making her shriek and shiver. It would have felt good against her heated skin if it weren't such a shock to her system._

Inhaling took some effort, like someone had placed something heavy upon her chest. Grace's consciousness returned to her suddenly, and she was immediately aware of how physically sick she felt. Her skin was burning up, her lips dry and chapped. It took a considerable effort just to crack her eyes open, blearily looking up at an unfamiliar white ceiling. There was what looked and felt like an IV in her left arm, a clear liquid dripping slowly into her. The cold she felt in her dream had followed her into awakening, emanating from her forehead and trickling down the sides of her face. A lithe, tattooed arm was reaching over her, dabbing a water soaked cloth along her face. It felt indescribably good. 

"I've waited so long to finally get you, and when I do it's nothing like what I wanted." 

His voice was a quiet, resigned murmur. So lost in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed her awaken. Grace tried blinking her eyes open more but it didn't do much, even her eyelids were on fire. She could make out his face as she turned her head minutely and groaned in discomfort. Her bones felt like they were useless, heavy and aching within her body. John paused his ministrations as she brought him from his thoughts, the cool cloth coming to rest against her cheek. He tilted his head, inspecting her like she was the fine print that would win his next case. 

"So stubborn. There is no killing you, it would seem." He chided, proceeding to drag the wet cloth across her dry lips slowly. With a quick swipe of her tongue she relished the feeling of moisture, closing her eyes with a grateful whine. Her breaths remained shallow, eyes drooping before she could catch the amused look on his face. 

Grace didn't dream after that, but the burning remained. Every time she awoke she was covered in a new layer of sweat. John was almost always there, eventually resorting to making a makeshift ice pack and keeping on nestled in the crook of her neck. Anytime she felt herself straying into the bleak unconsciousness again she focused on the cold, hanging onto it like a lifeline. When she was awake he didn't say much, simply keeping watch. 

Which was worrisome in and of itself. 

He left often, obviously having other things to do than sit in her room all day, but always returned. Sometimes when he thought she was asleep, or just forgot himself, she took the time to look him over. John appeared more tired than the last time she saw him, when he and Joseph got into an argument in his bunker about her. There was a weariness to him that dampened the quirky, annoying Baptist that she'd been so used to. 

There was a nurse, or at least someone she _hoped_ was a nurse, who would come in from time to time to change her bandages and sweat soaked sheets. 

One night, when her fever began to run dangerously high, she had been jolted from a fitful sleep. Her IV was carefully removed and spots appeared in her vision as she tried and failed to focus on what was being said around her. Being lifted from bed, Grace heard John's voice firing out instructions as the passing of bright hall lights made her squint. Then she heard the sound of running water before she was unceremoniously set down into a bath of ice. Oh how she _shrieked_ , her neglected vocal cords rasping in protest. She spasmed and thrashed against the arms holding her down in the tub. It was like a new hell in and of itself, going from burning alive to freezing to death in a matter of seconds. 

Grace eventually stopped struggling and lay chattering in the bathtub, teeth clacking noisily as her fever was forcefully brought down. She glared reproachfully up at John, and then to Jacob who had appeared standing behind him. It was the first time she had seen him since the night of her rescue. The former kept hold of her while the latter nodded his approval, the two of them talking to one another. Frustrated that she couldn't focus on what they were saying because her mind was too added by the cold water, her body too tense. Jacob turned and walked away as one of John's hands left her shoulder to feel her forehead. 

"J-Joseph?" Grace croaked through chattering teeth. The corners of her mouth twitched down as her misery, a least for a little while, made her want to fracture. Seemingly satisfied with whatever warmth he felt against her skin, John sighed and ran a hand over the hair atop her head.

"Soon." 

\----- 

There was a new guard to keep her company. Jacob was now around whenever John wasn't, and Grace was now conscious often enough that she could tell they alternated days. 

Unsurprisingly Jacob was even less talkative than his brothers. He would sit nearby and sharpen his knife or write on a small notepad he kept in his back pocket. A bit more intimidated by the eldest Seed, Grace only cast furtive glances to take him in. His scars were either from a fire or chemical burns. He had dog tags, so maybe he'd gotten them during his time in the service. He had the same blue eyes as his brothers, and whenever he was on watch with her he took care of her wounds himself. Disinfecting, changing bandages, making sure her new stitches didn't meet the same fate as her old ones. None of it felt personal, though. A soldier through and through. 

Jacob told her that she had gotten an infection from her head wound, which by now was healing nicely. Neither him or John gave her any news to share, not keeping her captive but making sure she stayed safe and alive. Her IV made sure she received antibiotics and hydration, and in another day or so hopefully her fever would be gone. Grace surmised that she was in someone's bunker somewhere, which really wasn't much information at all if you thought about how many there were in Hope County.

"Where is Joseph?" She asked, feeling particularly willful one morning as she sat up in bed. John sat in a chair at her bedside, drumming his fingers on his knee quietly. It was unnerving. He wasn't the kind of man who was usually silent. 

"He is taking care of something." 

"Of what?" 

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know." 

One of the first flickers of humor she had seen from him in while. Grace wondered what she would have to do to get him back to him normal outrageous self, which was something she never thought she would want to do. Ever. 

"Well if this fever doesn't, then curiosity might as well." 

"Do you annoy _Jacob_ with countless questions?" 

"I'm not making you sit here." 

"Joseph trusted us to take care of you. That means making sure nothing happens to you. Which is a monumental task, considering how chaos just seems to _find_ you like a magnet."

Grace fought the urge to smile, not wanting him to retreat back into quietude. So she poked more, leaning back against the wall behind her pillow. 

"What happened after I left?" 

She didn't have to specify where, or what she was talking about. It was a memorable parting, and Joseph had never gone into detail about what happened as she was escaping out of John's bunker. John looked at her a moment before scoffing, uncrossing his legs and sitting up straighter. Every day she spent with him made her more assured of her decision not to kill him. He was a grown man with a law degree, a penchant for expensive things, and a narcissist with a twisted sense of humor. He was also part of a cult and liked to torture people to spread the pain he'd received from his foster parents. But there were certain moments, like now, where she could see through all that to the younger brother that Joseph and Jacob always tried to protect. 

She would have never known him if she'd shot him out of the sky. 

"We fought, obviously. And then I was shown the...error of my ways." He answered evasively, bitterly. Like the thought of disappointing Joseph made him angry with himself, and the punishment part didn't quite matter. 

"What did he do?" Grace asked quietly, not sure if he would give her an answer. 

This time he met her gaze and held it, leaning forward in his seat. John had looked tired before, but now there was a gleam in his eye that made her weary. She told herself not to move, like finding herself in front of a predator and not wanting to provoke it. For awhile they just breathed, and then John's eyes strayed down her face and neck, lower.

"Show it to me." 

Grace only hesitated for a few seconds before she lifted a hand up to the collar of her shirt, a plain white thing they had given her to change into, and pulled it down enough so that he could see the ' _Wrath_ ' tattoo he'd given her. He looked appreciatively at his work for a moment before closing his eyes with a small shake of his head. 

"Not that one." 

Her brow furrowed, releasing her collar and moving to pull up her short sleeve and expose the ' _Sloth_ ' he had carved into her with a screwdriver. Thinking back on it now she didn't feel fear or apprehension at the memory of it. The whole thought of her confession held fondness to her, which was probably another indicator she was crazy. He placed his hand over hers, stopping her from bringing up her sleeve. She found the sight of his hand - completely covered in tattoos - atop her unmarked one to be entrancing. 

Keeping her hand in his he guided it down, resting it over her lower stomach. Releasing her, he sat back again and took a deep breath in through his nose. Under his expectant gaze she swallowed her questions for now and pushed her sheets a scant few inches down her thighs. She gripped the hem of her shirt and raised it, using her other hand to pull the waistband of her sweatpants down just enough so he could see Joseph's mark. 

Her ' _Lust_ '.

It had moved on past the scabbed phase and was now a healing into a reddish pink, skin raising up as it began to scar. 

His nostrils flared as his blue eyes locked onto it. A hand came up to tap at his lower lip, looking like he wanted to bite it but holding himself back. Grace sat passively in front of him, willing to let him study it without the burden of feeling self conscious. He began tapping his foot, an intense look on his face - eyes never leaving her stomach. Was it anger she saw? Resentment, impatience? 

"Does it bother you?" She ventured, finally breaking the silence. His foot stopped moving. No response. She waited a minute before continuing, "...That you didn't do it?" 

John stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the cement floor as it got pushed back, hitting the wall with a small bang. Grace jumped, hand releasing her shirt and grabbing at her sheets. He stood over her, a redness to his face that wasn't there a minute ago. That infamous temper of his. She remembered a similar display when he had her and Hudson tied up in his torture room, he had knocked over his entire workbench. Not letting her say anything else, he placed his hand open palmed over her shirt. For a second he held it there, his warmth seeping through the cotton into the skin of her stomach. After a few seconds, during which he visibly calmed himself down, he traced the raised lettering from over her shirt. His lips twisted into a sneer. 

"It is the will of the Father." John grit out with finality, before turning on his heel and leaving her room - the metal door closing hard behind him. An hour or so later Jacob came and took his place, pointedly not saying anything as he moved the chair John had thrown back into place and took a seat. 

It was hard to figure out these Seed brothers, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries, this is not going to be John/Dep at all. Strictly Joseph/Dep. I just find John to be an incredibly interesting character to write. Thank you for reading, please comment your thoughts!


	39. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through so many different ways for this to happen, and settled on something not so over-the-top. Hope you enjoy!

In time Grace's fever subsided, the antibiotics from her IV doing their job and easing most of her discomfort. Her face was still a horrifying mixture of color from the different bruises she'd acquired, but her scratches were healing and it was getting easier to wake up and stay awake. She had been having a hard time stomaching regular foods, always ending up nauseous in her sickened state, so they'd had her drinking broths and nibbling bits of bread. Thankfully now she had graduated to full on soups and light sandwiches, her stomach remaining testy but not losing it's contents anymore. 

Currently she was sitting in bed, keeping still as Jacob checked on her stitches and disinfected them. After the last few days it had become routine with him, and she no longer tensed with his hands upon her head, knowing by now that he was ever clinical about the whole process. He was not cruel, adding no rough touch to give her more pain as he worked. It was one of the things she learned fast about Jacob, that he was more sedate than his youngest sibling. More direct and goal oriented. 

Itching to fill the silence now that she was climbing back from rock bottom, Grace bounced her knee as her thoughts drifted from the moment. No one had told her anything about Joseph. She was trying not to let it eat away at her, telling herself that if his brothers didn't seem worried then she shouldn't either. It didn't really work. 

"Stay still."

She obeyed the stern command without a thought, stilling her knee with a sigh. Grace had woken up an hour ago to see Jacob opening up a first aid kit next to her bed. She would never say it out loud, but she suspected Joseph learned to be a mother hen from Jacob. What would her friends say now, seeing her being doted on by the Soldier himself? Grace had yet to work up the courage to ask him about the stories she had heard about him - about the Cook, the forced training… Things were so complicated as it was, and she didn't really want to find out. She would be happy for now knowing that she was safe from the Resistance. 

There was no way that they knew where she was, hell she didn't even know where she was. Her last night in Fall's End had ended with her being taken by Joseph, traded off twice, and flown away in John's plane. It would have been impossible to track her. Sure, she'd had to spend a few days too many in captivity, but when Joseph pulled off a rescue mission he didn't half ass anything. 

"How bad does my face look?" 

"Pretty damn bad." Jacob responded gruffly. Grace smiled, not bothering to feign offense at the truthful comment completely expected from him. 

"Well geez, don't sugar coat anything for me." 

Met with silence again she studied the very boring cement walls, no decorations or pictures. Sterile fluorescent lights overhead, no sound of nature on the other side. Grace was definitely in a bunker, either John's or Jacob's. She wasn't worried about it, though. She was safe either way, and too numb still to think about how much it hurt that she couldn't be safe with her friends. Were they still even her friends? Minutes ticked by as he tended to her. 

"Is something wrong with my stitches?" she gathered the gumption to ask. Normally it was a quick check up and then he was done. 

"They're fine. Why?" 

"It's just...uh. Taking a while this time." 

Grace heard him huff, wincing in anticipation of possible retaliation her words might incite. But he just tugged on the length of her hair firmly, enough for her head to be pulled to the side a bit, but not so rough that it hurt her. 

"You have a lot of hair, pup. Makes taking care of this a pain in the ass." 

Her stomach fluttered at the nickname, feeling a little more accepted every time he used it. Any sense of normality with the Seeds was more than welcome, considering she had been their enemy not too long ago. Whatever his thoughts on her were, Jacob didn't openly voice them. He finished the disinfecting and went to reach for the gauze when she stopped him with a hand on his arm, an idea coming to mind that felt like the right thing. 

\-----

John scowled from his place leaning against the door frame. One elbow rested against it above his head, with his forearm draped across his forehead as he watched Jacob take out his combat knife. Grace had pulled the armchair into the center of the room and seated herself on it, ready to say goodbye to her long locks. The Baptist had been passing by when he caught sight of them getting ready for it, predictably deciding to stick around to give them sarcastic commentary throughout the process. 

"How come you're having _him_ do this? I am much better with hair." 

Grace tied her hair back with a band, tightening it at the base of her neck. The chestnut tresses now fell to her mid-back, longer than she normally let the length get. 

"As if I trust you near me with sharp objects." she retorted, with no real fire behind her words. John grinned mischievously, eyes darkening as he observed Jacob circle behind her and take hold of her ponytail. Even just watching he was intense as ever. Grace wondered if there was a fire inside him that he could never put out, no matter how strung out it made him. 

"Last chance. Ready?" 

"Do it." 

Grace kept still, focusing on the 'E.G' on John's belt buckle. Jacob gripped the length of her hair, keeping it in place as he brought the sharp edge of his knife to it. There was a soft 'schwick' as he sliced the ponytail off just over the tie, letting her now jaw-length hair fall forward into place. Nice and simple, over in a second. Though it would have been funny to see the look on Jacob's face if she decided to ask him if he knew how to give side bangs. Her hand lifted to feel at the chopped locks, skimming what was exposed of the back of her neck. 

"I could have at least made it more ladylike." John critiqued from the doorway. 

Grace snorted, running a hand through her hair and taking the length of ponytail from Jacob as he offered it to her with the other. She looked over it curiously, like she couldn't believe it was her own. 

"If I wanted to look like an Atlanta whore I would have asked. But I was going for a more practical look." Grace countered, happy that at least her throat had been letting her speak without rasping. 

A bark of laughter from Jacob startled her, the unfamiliar sound shocking but not unpleasant. Even John, past his annoyance, looked skeptically at him. Note to self: Jacob likes to poke fun at his little brother. Grace got up and brushed off her shoulders in case any stray hairs had fallen there, before returning to her bed and covering her legs with the blanket. 

Jacob moved the chair back near the bed and clapped John on the shoulder, passing off the guard watch to him wordlessly before disappearing down the hall. Grace made herself comfortable again, still fending off the fatigue of her sickness. 

For a minute John continued to stand in the doorway, studying her new haircut as she unceremoniously discarded the old hair into a trash bin. Eventually he stepped into the room, advancing until he came to a stop next to her bed. Reaching out, he grasped the shortened ends of her brown hair between his fingers, his silence making her apprehensive. With his ever changing moods it was always better to keep him talkative, at least then you knew what specific mood he was in. 

Grace looked up at him, noting the sadness that crept into his eyes as he played idly with her hair. Things had been calm between them, no other awkward encounters like when he had asked to see her scars - at least not yet. She opened her mouth to break the silence, but he beat her to it. 

"Joseph is coming back." 

Grace smiled instantly, letting out a breath that ended in light laughter. She closed her eyes and placed a hand over her thumping heart. This was the first news she had of him since he had rescued her. Not that he was dead, or hurt, or captured. It was impossible to keep the enthusiasm and eagerness from her voice. 

"When? Today? Tomorrow?" 

John let go of her hair and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. This was good news, but he seemed disappointed of his brothers return. Greedy, probably wishing for more alone time with the infamous Deputy. The sadness left his baby blues, shuttered by a familiar glower. John dropped down into the armchair by her bed and fiddled with the watch on his left wrist. Had he always worn that? 

"Soon." 

\-----

In the middle of the night Grace began to feel warm again, so she pushed the blankets down around her waist. She was snuggled into her pillow facing the wall, wishing there was a window she could open. A cool night breeze would feel so good right about now. Before she could get too worried about her fever coming back, though, she shifted and felt something behind her. Grace opened her eyes slowly in an effort to wake herself up more fully, reluctant to part with her dreams. Moving again, she realized that the extra heat she had been feeling was from a warm chest pressed up behind her. 

Yawning, she felt the weight of an arm draping across her stomach and looked down at it. Grace's sleep addled mind took an extra second to recognize Joseph's familiar scars and tattoos. His arm tightened and brought her back flush up against his chest, his beard tickling her as he leaned in and placed a soft kiss in the crook of her neck. Faster than she could ever remember becoming fully awake, the realization that he was physically here with her had her wriggling in his hold until she had turned around to face him at last. 

"Joseph!" she whispered fervently, eyes drinking in the sight of him laying on his side facing her. His torso was bare, hair loose around his face, almost distracting her from his tired eyes. He had dark circles and a few bruises, but looked to be in one piece. He huffed in gentle laughter as she looked him over, grasping her questing hands in his and bringing them to his lips for a kiss. Tears welled, remembering the last time they had spent time together. When she had ran away and left him alone in his church. The fears that had risen up inside of her while captive in Fall's End came rushing back to her all at once. She wouldn't hold back, or let apprehension keep her from him anymore. What if she had lost him and never gotten a chance to tell him how she felt? 

"I love you, too."

Joseph paused, soft lips still against her knuckles. The room was dark, but she was certain of the surprise that gleamed in his gaze. 

"I won't run again. I love you _so_ much. I _love_ you."

He let go of her hands and pulled her into his chest, arms wrapping almost too-tightly around her. Grace buried her face in the crook of his neck and let her tears fall, encircling her arms around him in return. She relished the warmth of him and tried to calm herself, but she was so angry - over everything that had happened - and that anger combined with the happiness of seeing him again was almost too much. Joseph had his nose buried in her hair, stroking her back as she desperately whispered sweet nothings about all the things she wanted for them into his neck. What else was there to say? What else to do but hold each other close and breathe one another in? 

They lay that way for hours, only pulling back enough to look at each other. Words didn't seem to be adequate enough to convey what they were feeling, so the room remained mostly silent. Their hearts were felt beating against each others chest in their closeness, reassuring Grace that he was alive and well. He kissed her bruised face, wiped her tears, letting his own anger and remorse for what happened to her show on his face. She traced his scars, re familiarizing herself with his abused skin, at times gripping him so tightly that he closed his eyes at the pain. But Joseph made no move to take her hands away, letting her cling to him as hard as she needed to. 

"Grace." he whispered, tracing her cheek with a finger. 

"Yes?" 

"Tell me. I need…" his trailed off briefly. His eyes left her own to take in what he could of the bruising on her face, "...what happened?" 

Grace stared at him, blinking slowly as she tried to organize a summary of everything that had happened to her since she left his compound. He was patient, stroking her arm comfortingly, but the more she thought about it the more she didn't want to say anything. Not right now, at least. It would involve too much emotion - from her reliving it, and from the anger it would bring him to learn everything. Right now she just wanted to focus on finally having him near again. At last she closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest. 

"Not now...please. Just hold me." 

And he did. Their arms wrapped around each other, two people feeling complete after almost losing each other. Grace didn't know how much time had passed, just that eventually his warm embrace had her drifting back to sleep. An afterthought came to her, making her smile lazily as she realized she'd forgotten she was currently still sick. He probably had heard, but it couldn't hurt to warn him before dreams took her. 

"You might get sick." she murmured as he nestled her head beneath his chin. 

"My Grace." Joseph sighed her name, his voice more telling than his actual words. She knew without him saying anything that he would endure getting sick if it meant they were together. She had missed his confidence, his determination. He always made her feel like they could get through anything. There was so much behind those two words, regret, love, worry, happiness. That all could be dealt with in the morning. But for now, without another word, they fell asleep entangled in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a tad shorter than usual, but it felt right to leave it here before moving on to the next day. Thank you all for your words of encouragement and thoughts on the story :)


	40. Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, I had a massive bout of writer's block. Which was probably a long time coming considering I banged out the first 39 chapters within days of each other lol. I had to step back from what I'd written of this chapter and then return to it and revise it until I was satisfied. Thank you for waiting, enjoy <3

Grace could feel the anger radiating off of Joseph from where he sat behind her on the bed, finally getting a look at the back of her head for the first time. She could hear him taking slow breaths to calm himself, his hands leaving her hair to grip her shoulders tightly. His body trembled behind hers as he closed his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her neck. It had been too dark to see them last night, but now that the lights were on it was impossible to miss the painful stitches standing out against angry red skin, barely concealed by her short hair. It still hurt like hell. That single crack to the back of her head would take a long time to heal properly. His fingers ghosted over them, parting her hair to get a better look. Whatever he must be seeing, his anger was palpable, barely restrained behind his usual calm. Her first set of stitches had been torn, then the barely healed skin ripped again during her escape, and brand new ones put in so soon after…

She didn't want to know what it looked like. 

When the lights in the bunker had turned on he'd spent a good while kissing her bruised face, every scrape and cut. A silent apology for every wound inflicted on her, pains not inflicted in the name of atonement or worship and therefore abhorrent. Joseph had seen her face the night of the trade-off, was able to keep his fury in check when he'd seen most of what they'd done to her. Now, though, in the quiet aftermath of everything that had happened, Joseph was having a harder time keeping his own wrath in check. Grace sat obediently and let him check the back of her head, and when he finally broke his silence his lips brushed against her skin, making her eyes slide shut as she relaxed back into him. 

"I should _kill_ them for what they have done." 

Killing had never done much for her besides being a quick fix to an immediate problem, like putting a band aid on a sinking ship. While Joseph simmered behind her she thought of the dying young man in her arms at Gardenview, the many eyes she had put a bullet in between, the crushed bodies beneath the rubble of Joseph's statue. Lastly Grace thought of Armstrong's bloody eyes, how even when she had lost her sight she had been thrashing out to continue the fight. Violence could end things quickly, but wasn't a long run solution. Oddly enough, out of all people, she had learned this from him. She grasped his left hand and entwined their fingers together, bringing his wrist up to her lips to kiss at the 'Wrath' carved there. 

"That wouldn't accomplish much." 

Joseph pressed a kiss to her ear, humming in agreement, seeming to simmer down the longer she showed no outward agitation from her wounds. Their voices were a whisper in the room as they leaned into one another, as if talking too loudly might break them out of their reverie. 

"I blinded her." 

He was silent for a moment, needing a second to place who she spoke of. 

"...The sniper." 

"You saw her?" 

"I did see her. She was the only individual with such a...particular wound. You were the one to do that?" 

"On the way to make the trade I tried to run for it. She caught up to me. I couldn't not fight again, couldn't keep that wrath in check after being trapped for so long." As memories of her desperation edged into her tone he began to rock her gently in his arms, his breath warm against her ear. 

"Do I need to atone?"

Pausing, Joseph pulled his head back in order to properly look down at her where she rest against his shoulder. His brow creased softly, a hand coming up to stroke her cheek. 

"I'd been so patient. Hadn't fought back in _so_ long and I just wanted to go _home_." her voice wobbled, breath hiccupping. Only the feeling of Joseph's warmth behind her kept her anger from surfacing. All the resentment towards her friends, of what they did to her and how they had instilled a fear of being locked up within her, made her want to seethe. Instead Grace took solace in the presence of the man she'd fallen in love with. "Was my wrath wrong?"

The hand that had been stroking her cheek moved to brush a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. When he responded it was with that quiet confidence she'd always admired. 

"You told Jacob she was the one who did this to you. Who struck you and took you from me." 

"Yeah."

"You were more merciful than I would have been." 

Relief flooded her, assurance from the most important person to her that her actions had been justified. The whole duration of her captivity she had been warring with what lines there were between saving herself and being too wrathful. Up until the last day or two she had taken Armstrong's abuse, let herself be derided and made to feel bad by the people she had wanted to protect. When she tried to think of what she felt towards them now there was only a faint nostalgia, shrouded by a new numbness that had settled over her care for them like a scab over a wound. 

"Whose bunker am I in?" 

"Jacob's." 

Ah. Grace had never been to the Whitetail's before. Had avoided it like the plague. The brother's had definitely made sure to take her a long way from Holland Valley, even if it's entirety was now back under Eden's Gate control. Mindful of her stitches, she tilted her head to look up at him. His arms wrapped around her, hands trailing up and down her arms as if he couldn't shake the feeling she would be taken again. While she studied his face, committing it to memory for the millionth time, Grace felt him chuckle against her back and quirked a brow at him.

"I can feel the questions thrumming in your mind. Go ahead." 

"How did you know what happened?" she blurted, barely waiting for the last word to leave his mouth before her curiosity got the better of her. 

"You did not come in the morning. For your baptism. I found it hard to believe you would be scared off again." he sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear, "You had told me about the Rye's, and I knew there was only one place you could have been when we last spoke. Down the street from the clinic was a pool of blood...and this." 

He reached back to the end table by the bed, grasping something and holding it out in front of her so she could see. For a moment her heart stuttered, mouth parting in surprise. 

Her deputy badge. 

Hurriedly she reached out and gently took it from him, running her thumb over the smooth metal of it. She hadn't even thought to check if her badge was on her, had completely forgotten about it with everything that had happened to her. It must have fallen out of one of her pockets when she hit the ground. The burnished gold surface gleamed, obviously the victim of a worried thumb grazing over it constantly. Joseph had returned it to her when he could have just thrown it away, or left it on the ground. This symbol of her old life. Old, because her new place wasn't as a Deputy anymore, but as someone who stood at Joseph's side for better or worse. Grace smiled and held it to her chest, promising herself she wouldn't let it get lost again. 

"Thank you, Joe. I…was afraid you might have thought I'd abandoned you again." 

"I had faith." 

Sitting up, she turned around in bed to face him completely. Of course he'd had faith in her, how could she have doubted? She wanted to grab his face with her hands and cover every inch of his with grateful kisses, but there would be time later. They had that now. 

"Where were you? I remember you giving me to Jacob and going back. What happened?" 

His brother's had been pretty tight lipped about giving her any information on Joseph, which meant that either they didn't trust her or didn't think she would like the answer very much. But if she was going to be with him, now, then she deserved to be in the loop about things. 

"I returned to Fall's End. I had to make sure that things were...taken care of there." 

Grace contemplated this for a few quiet seconds. When the Judges had shown up it had tipped the odds in favor of the Project, the fog had hidden their advancement as the Resistance was focused on the convoy's Joseph had ridden in on. When she was taken away Eden's Gate had been winning, pushing the few Resistance members left back. The trade off had been the only thing keeping the fighting at a stand still. Joseph didn't immediately continue, but her heart had steeled awhile ago, around the time she woke up kidnapped in the back of a truck with a bleeding head and needle of sedative. 

"Care to elaborate?"

His back straightened, expression melding into a stern one. If she didn't trust him implicitly she might be disturbed at the subtle tells of his weariness, the sudden wave of devotion and conviction that alighted him. When he responded it was straightforwardly, as if with ordained absolution. 

"Any sinners who were not killed in action were subdued and taken to John's Gate. They remain there, awaiting confession and atonement. I remained to make sure everything went smoothly, as John and Jacob were tasked with getting you here."

His weariness to elaborate made sense now, he was worried she would be upset at how things had ended. Who had died in the stand off? What had she even expected? The whole situation sucked and she couldn't be angry at him. It was either the Project died or the Resistance at Fall's End fell, she had known it was a lose-lose situation. The longer she thought about it the more relieved she became that at least Joseph hadn't gone back and made sure not a soul remained alive. Which he probably had come _very_ close to doing, if the expression on his face when he saw her that night was any indicator. It was hard to think about the Resistance members at Gardenview, shooting every cultist in the head even after they had clearly won. 

Grace was in too deep to feel bad, now. Maybe they would be able to find some peace if they came clean like she did. And if the world really was going to end soon, then they were safe and sheltered. She hoped that they would give John what he wanted and lighten their shoulders - that after they got through the pain of confession they could be helping out stockpiling the bunkers or farming, realizing life within the Project could be peaceful. Taking her silence for what it was, quiet contemplation, Joseph continued.

"Jacob returned to help me oversee the sinner's transportation to the Gate, then he rounded up his Judges and led them home. Any remaining sinners in the county have gone to the Henbane." 

Grace had almost completely forgotten about the Henbane, sandwiched between Jacob and John's region it was the only place where the Resistance had a hold anymore. And with Grace gone, if history was anything to go by, then they wouldn't be too efficient at holding it without her. Safe. She was safe now, the Seeds had made sure of it. 

There was a knock on the door, making them both turn their heads from one another. Joseph moved first, getting up and replacing himself with her pillow, helping her scoot back so she could lay her aching head down again. He stroked her head, looking at her with a reverence she still wasn't sure she deserved. 

"I will return. Would you like to go outside?" 

\----- 

A few hours later Grace was showered and dressed, waiting in her room for Joseph to come back. There had been a loose pair of jeans and an Eden's Gate shirt waiting on the bed for her when she got back, so no more nightshirts for her. Today would be her first day off of bed rest, and it was made perfectly clear from the nurse giving her one last check up that there was to be no running, jumping, climbing or fist fighting until her stitches were out. Excitement had her feet tapping as she thought about getting the feel the sun on her face and breathe in fresh air. 

What were the mountains here like? She had actually managed to keep her oatmeal down this morning despite some light nausea, her whole body felt a million times better - but that was probably the endorphins talking. A few days ago she thought she might never see Joseph again, but here she was. About to take a walk in the sun with him, no worries about getting seen with him. For a split second she tensed, remembering a black security camera on an isolated island. Was Dutch still in his bunker? Was he even a threat enough now that she should tell Joseph about his involvement? 

John came for her, then, startling her from her thoughts with a few hard knocks against the door. He was standing out in the hall when she swung open the door, hands in his pockets, one hip jutting out as he waited. He gave her a once over, from her short wavy hair to her clothes, before nodding towards the end of one hall. She fell into step beside him as he led her through the bunker's halls. Most of the members strolling about she did not recognize, which made sense since the Whitetails hadn't been her domain. They moved like soldiers, like Jacob, and all were more heavily armored than the members she had seen in John's region. 

She would have had a tough time with this region. 

If Jacob had taken his soldier's along with his Judges, they probably could have stormed the Henbane on the way back from Holland Valley. It provided her with reassurance that it would probably take a miracle to steal her from under the heavily guarded bunker she'd been kept in. Every footstep she made echoed off the walls, _safe, safe, safe_. 

The walk was strangely silent, every now and again she would send a side glance in John's direction to try and get a read on him. His sarcasm and mood swings could be tiring, but it was stranger for him to not have much to say. John's eyes stayed forward, unreadable, as he lead her towards the entrance of the bunker. This one wasn't so different from his, with the exception of a number of well stocked armories. And less candles. 

Joseph and Jacob stood waiting for them by the reinforced metal double doors leading outside. Relief and excitement fluttered in her stomach at the thought of being free for the first time in what seemed like forever. 

"It is a beautiful day out, let's get you some fresh air." Joseph welcomed, nodding at John and grasping the back of his neck - touching his forehead to his like the night of her first attempted baptism. 

Jacob came up to her and clapped her on her shoulder, stopping mid stride as he walked past to lean in towards her ear and whisper,

"Be ready. Nothing comes like we expect it to." 

And just as quickly as he'd paused he was moving past her back into the bunker. Joseph said his goodbyes to John before opening the double doors and holding his hand out to her, signature aviators back in place as Montana waited beyond.

\----- 

The fresh air felt cold as it washed into her lungs, the breeze caressing her face made her feel like she could cry. 

Grace had taken it for granted, the ability to be free. The littlest things like being able to go outside when she wanted to. Of not being handcuffed or tied up with rope. 

They hadn't gone too far from the bunker entrance, just far out enough that she could shuck off her shoes and socks to feel the green grass between her toes. Joseph stood a few steps back, keeping an eye on her protectively as she reacquainted herself with the world. The armed guards of the bunker were only a radio call away if they needed help. 

Grace raised her arms over her head, fingers wiggling as the wind blew past. He was right, it was a beautiful day. The sun warmed her skin, birds chirped in the tall trees. The sound of the leaves shuffling might as well have been a symphony. The horizon of the Whitetail's was more mountainous than she imagined. One day, before the world ended, or after it began again, she would grapple up their heights to see the view. 

If anyone tried to forcefully take this from her again she wouldn't play nice. 

The next time she would be cooped up away from the clear sky would be whenever the Collapse came, and even then it would be a willing descent into a bunker with Joseph. Eventually her arms came down, though her eyes remained greedily taking in the sight of nature. She heard Joseph's footsteps in the grass as he drew near to her side. 

"You are healed enough to not need critical care. I would like it if you came back to the Valley, but if you would prefer it here or elsewhere, we may talk about it." 

Grace smiled softly, grasping his hand in hers as she turned towards him. The beads of his rosary pressed between their two palms. 

"Take me home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback are so very appreciated!!


	41. Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been so crazy and I was agonizing over how to get the last scene of this chapter exactly right. Forgive the long update time, I haven't forgotten about this story. Only a few chapters left to go and it will be finished :)

They made plans to leave Jacob's bunker before sundown. 

Grace didn't have any possessions to pack, really. No clothes or weapons to stock up on for their drive back to the Valley. She kept her badge in her front pocket, brushing her fingers over its shape through her jeans repeatedly to assure herself that it was still there. Who knows what had happened to her usual pack, what had become of her radio or any of her old equipment. But that was okay, she didn't have need of weapons anymore - there wasn't much of a threat posed to herself or the Project as long as they kept out of the Henbane. Even that middle region would not be unsafe for long, undoubtedly it could be taken back within a month or so if that was Joseph's will. Due to her avoidance of the Whitetails, Grace hadn't ever been in contact with the militia here, and Jacob had assured her that their numbers were dwindling and they were under control. By stepping out of the fight completely she had given the upper hand to Eden's Gate. 

A decision that had caused a war within herself just a week ago, but now left her feeling at peace. There would be time to contemplate who she had become when they left. 

When Grace had finished basking in the freedom of being outside she put her shoes back on and walked back towards the bunker with Joseph. They had decided that going back to the Valley, specifically John's ranch, would be the best option. There was more space and more security there than at Joseph's compound - the tactical part of her mind telling her there was more of a chance to escape an assault if they weren't surrounded by water on all sides. Traveling back in a large secured convoy would be an immediate red flag to whoever saw that one of the Seeds (and possibly the Deputy herself) were on the move - so they were opting to take an unmarked car and drive down together without the armed escort. No one in the Resistance knew where Grace had been taken, Joseph told her, and she was fine keeping it that way. 

Before she and Joseph left, though, they waited near the bunker doors for a few patrols to drive down the Whitetails and make sure the roads were clear. Joseph hadn't left her side, a constant presence that soothed her frayed nerves in the wake of everything. When her stomach rumbled, it had been a while since she'd had that soup earlier, one of the many members milling about had conjured up a bag of homemade trail mix for her to snack on. She accepted gratefully, munching on the oats and blueberries despite the sporadic churning of her stomach. There was no predicting when she would feel sick ever since she'd had her fever, sometimes food bothered her and sometimes it didn't. The only thing she could do was try and sate her stomach whenever she felt hungry, keep down whatever she could so that she could get her strength back. 

Joseph kept an eye on her as she ate, casting her worried glances whenever she had to pause and let her stomach settle before continuing. He was so good at seeming serene, rarely letting his wrath show, but she knew it was always there. A sin that was a part of him as much as it was her, something to temper and steel with time rather than erase completely. Grace wondered about the sins he had yet to share with her, the ones that earned him his scars. Were they worse than hers? 

Finally, when she was about halfway through the little baggie, the patrols came back and gave them the all clear to leave. Joseph walked to the passenger side of the truck they were taking and opened the door, helping her up into the seat and closing it shut before getting in himself. He adjusted his aviators and turned the key in the ignition, starting it up and driving them out of the gated entrance, taking them far from the place she had been safely nestled in to heal. No big goodbyes, no group of followers waving after them, a low key departure. 

Rolling up the empty half of the bag, Grace stored her trail mix in the passenger side compartment, not wanting to make herself sick by eating it while on the move. The last thing she wanted was to vomit out the window during their drive. She settled a hand on her stomach and let her head lay back against the headrest, mindful as ever of her stitches. The car filled with the uplifting choir behind the Project's music, the truck occasionally jostling over roads badly in need of maintenance. Sharky and Armstrong had hated it when she played this radio station, but even when she had hated the cult she'd found it hard to hate their music, too. 

"I want to be baptized. When we get back. Like we planned." 

Joseph's right hand left the steering wheel to reach over and grasp hers, giving it a gentle squeeze and running his thumb over her knuckles. 

"Of course, My Grace." 

"I want you to do it, not John." 

His thumb stilled, eyes flickering over to her briefly before focusing back on the road. A few seconds passed before he replied. 

"As long as you are cleansed in the waters, does the hand of the preacher matter?" 

Big picture, no, not really. But Grace thought of how furious John had been when Joseph had taken the last of her confession. The anger that overtook him when he slammed his chair back against the wall - the feel of his fingers tracing her scars over her shirt. How withdrawn he had been when learning she would be leaving soon. Not to mention the _last time_ he had tried to baptize her. Grace could still taste the blissed out water in her mouth, filling her nose and making her vision hazy. Her stomach nearly churned again. 

"I just want you. Getting to know you changed me, changed... _everything_. I want it to be you and me in that water. Your arms pushing me under and bringing me back up. Please." 

This seemed to placate him, his thumb resuming its movement, shoulders relaxing when she hadn't even noticed he had tensed. 

"Alright, Grace. I will be with you." 

\-----

The sun was almost finished setting as they pulled up to Seed Ranch. John had left before them, heading to his bunker to check on the 'souls' locked up there. Her friends. If she could still call them that. 

She really wished they hadn't done what they did. 

At least that meant the two of them had the ranch to themselves for awhile. They parked in front of the steps leading to the front doors, Joseph handing the keys to a guard who drove it away, before walking her inside. 

"Let me retrieve something for you, I will be right back." 

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, heading upstairs and leaving her as she looked around at the taxidermy animals mounted everywhere. Ugh. 

The last time Grace had been inside here was when she had taken this place in the name of the Resistance - when she was a different woman. She had been so sure of herself, then. Single-minded, stubborn, calculating. The same woman that had taught new Resistance members to shoot every cultist in the head for good measure after the fight was over. Who thought that this wasn't someone's home, just a base that needed to be overtaken. An asset that would provide housing for members and a second landing strip they could use for when they got their own attack planes. 

No wonder she had torn through their territory like a one woman army. She'd been a machine, raking over the county - thinking that she had all of the answers. 

She wasn't naïve, knew that John operated in a similar manner, if not harsher. Acquiring land and properties for Eden's Gate like he was playing some sick game of monopoly. It simply struck her how much better she had thought herself to be while doing the exact same thing. Killing for a cause she deemed worthy. Grace wanted to erase the memory of the old her, ashamed at her cold nature towards other human beings. What would Maddie think of her now? 

Grace wandered around to the other side of the large fireplace, fingers trailing over the polished wood of the long dining table until she stopped in front of that same answering machine that had made her doubt herself months ago. She was still standing, staring at it, when Joseph returned with something white and folded draped over his arm. Looking up, her heart stuttered at the soft smile he gave to her, holding out his hand for her to take. 

She didn't hesitate. 

\----- 

Hand in hand they walked down to the river directly south of the ranch. 

Grace couldn't wipe the soft smile from her face. Joseph wouldn't let her run (as per doctor's orders), but that didn't stop her from tugging him forward, fast walking him through the forest to get to the river's edge. It was a beautiful night, or at least she thought so. Ever since the pleasure of being outside had been returned to her she thought that everything involving fresh air was sublime. It was a little chilly, a few straggling fireflies flickered in the grass, holding on to the remaining warmth of summer before Fall was wholly upon them. The fresh air felt strange on the back of her neck, but not unpleasant. They had their privacy, only the light of the moon and stars allowing them to see.

She released his hand to reach down and pull off her shoes and socks, hearing Joseph chuckle behind her as he watched. 

"If only everyone were as eager as you." 

"I've been wanting this." she sighed, "I thought...when I was in that cell I kept kicking myself for not staying that night. None of this would have happened if I had." 

It was so easy to fall back into the familiarity of one another. Those days spent in the cabin had made talking with each other as natural as breathing. And since her confession it had hardly crossed her mind to keep her thoughts or feelings from him, knowing the pain it had caused her to keep everything inside. It felt better to let him know, anyways. Grace trusted him, now. And trusted herself to know who he was, and what he was capable of. The good and the bad together. 

Barefoot like her, and dropping his jacket to the ground as well, he shook his head. 

"It would have happened regardless. The moment you left the compound, that night or any other, Armstrong would have gotten to you eventually." 

"You're right." Grace hummed, straightening and looking at him curiously as he approached her with the white cloth he had gotten from the house. There was barely a whisper of trepidation in his eyes as he held it out to her. The soft material unfolded and hung between them, and when recognition finally hit her it was all she could do to keep the tears in her eyes from spilling over. 

The white sundress he had offered her all those nights ago, it looked as pristine as it had that night in his church. Grace reached forward, at a loss for words, grasping the soft cotton dress and admiring the blue petals hand stitched across the hem. Simple but pretty. Something that would fit her well - like Joseph had known it would when he'd had it made. He seemed to know what was best for her before she ever did, whether it be clothing or salvation. Her eyes watered, but that's as far as she would let it get. She had spent too much time on tears already. 

"I thought I may try offering this to you again." he finally spoke, letting his arm lower as she took the dress, watching her turn the material over in her hands. 

"Joseph… I should never have turned it away. Thank you." Grace whispered, her heart eager to right the wrong she had made when she'd run away from him. She closed the small distance between them, reaching up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. Keeping the dress gripped firmly in one hand, she used her free one to cup his cheek. His beard tickled her palm, his skin warm and familiar. Their lips melded together slowly, savoring the intimate feeling they hadn't been able to get enough of since the day he pinned her to a tree and kissed her for the first time. Even just this slow caress, the sensual pace of it, lit her up inside. Chased away any darkness that had been lingering at the edges of her heart. But this wasn't the time for more, sadly. Grace pulled away just enough to look up at his own flushed face. 

"Should I wear it now?" she whispered, breathless. 

"Please." 

That was the only go-ahead she needed. Reluctantly pulling herself away she went back to where she had dropped her shoes and quickly disrobed. The fabric of the dress was soft and flowy, the cotton sliding over her body and the length stopping just above her knees. The night breeze tickled her calves. Grace bit her lip as her fingers traced the delicate blue petals dancing around the hem. Somehow it fit perfectly. Just like she imagined it would when she daydreamed of it back in her cell. Usually she spent her time thinking about what things would have been like if she had just accepted the damn dress the first time he offered it. Those happy fantasies had gotten her through many hours when the rope or metal handcuffs around her had been too uncomfortable to sleep with. 

Finished admiring the dress she'd been gifted, Grace looked over her shoulder - doing a double take when she saw Joseph removing his vest and shirt as well, folding and arranging them in a neat pile over his jacket. Her self control wasn't strong enough to stop her eyes from magneting onto the lithe muscles of his back, the curve of his spine as he bent to set his glasses down, or from hungrily roving over the tattoos and scars that covered him like the legend of a map. She only stared for a minute, appreciating the view as he turned around now clad only in his jeans. 

Grace was eager to finally get this done, but sent a wary look towards the dark water a few feet away. The moonlight reflected and rippled over the surface of the inlet. 

"We'll be freezing." 

A chuckle, indulgent, as he walked towards it's edge. 

"We will be fine." 

Always so confident. Always right and sure. There was no power on Earth that could have stopped her legs from walking her to his side. 

Joseph led the way and a childish part of herself was happy to let him test the cold waters first, grinning upon seeing the goosebumps rise on his skin as he waded in up to his hips that betrayed his calm countenance. But his steps never faltered. His fingertips spread out at his sides, skimming the surface of the water as he turned around to face her. If he was uncomfortable it did not show on his face. All that his expression laid bare was the determination and confidence that he always exuded, always had within himself. As if they had always been meant to be standing at this place and time. What other visions had been shown to him? If he knew, how could he have known?

Joseph didn't hold his hand out to her again, knew she would come. Did not need to supplicate himself or coax her. 

Grace felt his eyes searing into her as she came forward, not letting herself look down at the water and instead holding his gaze steady. It was still a hard thing to do, sometimes. His vehemence was an overwhelming beast pacing beneath his skin, coming alive in his unblinking gaze. 

When she stepped both feet ankle-deep into the water Grace stifled the urge to whimper, not stopping her advancement towards Joseph until she was in up to her knees. Shivers racked up her legs, her spine, from the water lapping at her legs. She pushed the chill to the back of her mind, it wasn't important. After everything a little cold river was of no consequence. The weight of what this meant to her had her taking step after step towards him once more. None of this had been easy.

The approval in is eyes was enough to spur her the rest of the way, the flowy dress tangling around her thighs as she finally stopped beside him. The mud on the bottom of the river felt strange beneath her bare feet. Joseph was the taller of the two of them, meaning that while the water only came up to his hips, the river was lapping at her stomach - just over her belly button. Grace remained still, so utterly still, as he reached out and grasped her shoulders. Even though his hands were wet from skimming the water they remained utterly warm upon her, making the cold seem farther away as he smiled down at her.

"We must wash away our past. We must expose our sins."

The same words John had spoken during her first baptism, now spoken with the quiet fervor and determination that accompanied all of Joseph's preaching's. Grace stared back at him and noted how he seemed to glow, the light reflecting off the river catching in his eyes. Besides his voice, there was only the sound of the river sloshing and flowing around them. Joseph's hands slid down from her shoulders to her elbows as he continued.

"We must atone. For only then will we stand in the light of God, and walk through his Gate unto Eden."

Using his grip on her elbows he guided her to turn to her side in front of him. Only now did she force her eyes from his and look out at the expanse of river in front of her. Grace let her mind drift to that first night she had yanked open the cabin door and found Joseph Seed sprawling inside. To all of the sins she had committed before and after that, to her sister Maddie. Everything that had gone wrong, or that had gone right. While she lost herself in thinking over her actions, Joseph placed one hand on the small of her back, the other coming to her chest over her sternum. Closing her eyes, she focused on his words, on the thought of wanting to be cleansed - the feel of his hands, the water swishing the length of her dress beneath the gentle current lulled her. 

"And this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also - not the removal of dirt from your body but the pledge of a clear conscience towards Him."

Grace took in a breath through her nose before allowing herself to be lowered back into the water. She didn't flinch when the cold water rushed over her, soaking her hair and torso, cutting air off from her lungs. The only thing she could concentrate on was the sudden muffled quiet in her ears and the heat from Joseph's hands on her, holding her down as the waters washed over her. It wasn't anything like the ferocious grip of John's hands on her shoulders - shoving her forcefully beneath the waters surface. This felt purer, more serene. Inevitably meant to happen, no matter how much she had fought against it. In this water she could begin anew. It felt like coming alive again after being in a coma for a long time. A haze was wiped from her mind, and not just from the shock of cold water she was submerged beneath.

_You have to love them, John._

That's what he'd said that night all those months ago. She hadn't believed him, had thought he was full of shit. Another mistake, another sin to let wash away. 

This felt more like love than anything else she'd ever experienced.

Before she had even realized how long she'd been under, Joseph was lifting her up into the open air. She refilled her lungs and shivered in his arms, blinking her eyes open as she looked around and then up at him. Heat pooled in her cheeks and between her thighs at the pride and approval that shone in his eyes. She kept still as he murmured a few more passages and traced a cross upon her brow with river water, committing his every feature to memory. When he at last fell silent she blinked slowly and put her hand over his upon her chest. 

"Again. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me. Please comment and let me know your wonderful thoughts!


End file.
